


there is nothing new under the sun (but you)

by zeprince



Series: Ahead by a Century [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Arcade Gannon Overthinking Situations, Canon-Typical Violence, General Anti-Caesar Sentiment, Nonbinary Character, Other, Potential For Robot Fucking, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeprince/pseuds/zeprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a story about a good-bad world, not wanting to be alone anymore, and a doctor falling in love with the person who delivers the mail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all roads to vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent gay crap for a dead or dying fandom. Will be part of a collection of works. 
> 
> Thanks to Theo, BATM, and robots for beta help.

A month and a half after Six left Goodsprings, the skyline of New Vegas finally came into proper view. The courier’s right shoulder ached, screaming at them after having to bear the weight of metal armour for so long. Between that and being constantly paranoid that another Legion assassin party would come back for their remaining shoulder, the comfort brought by finally reaching their destination made them feel weak. The wave of relief that washed through the courier’s body was only conquered by the reminder that Vegas was still so _fucking_ far away.

Six had just wandered down the hill north of the overpass where the 188 trading post was set up. They couldn’t see very clearly, the sun and dust warping their view of the landscape, but they didn’t think there were any settlements between here and the Vegas walls. Smudges that broke up the land between were probably bushes, or rocks, with a few buildings dotting the area as well. To the northwest, massive, decaying concrete marked what had once been overpasses, highways, and rail lines. The prominent collective of walls and buildings was, of course, New Vegas itself; the giant tower visible from most parts of the Mojave announced this clearly. It was just a matter of figuring out where to go once they got there.

And getting there, of course. There was still a lot of Mojave to pass through, and they might be farther from Legion territory, now, but they still were not entirely safe.

Six stood up a little straighter on a rock half-hidden by the dust. ED-E floated dutifully beside the courier; silent unless spoken to, as always.

“How far away do you think the walls are?” Six asked the bot, and it turned itself towards the source of the noise. Was it actually scanning Six, seeking out their voice, or was this a simple implementation in its programming to make it appear more human? Six had no way of telling; it’d been a miracle they got the thing working in the first place.

ED-E beeped a musical reply, bobbing its body up and down as it hovered in front of Six. Although the bot’s little noises sounded bright and cheery, Six was still left guessing what the hell it had meant – if it had actually said anything at all.

“Not too far? Well, you’d probably know better than me anyway, little bot.” Six said, reaching up to tap gently on ED-E’s front. It let out a low, startled whistle, shooting backwards a foot or two before beeping at them again.

“Sorry.” Six said, and ED-E gave one last reprimanding click before floating forward again.

Six and the eyebot stayed put for a moment, just letting the reality of their journey settle on their shoulders; whether that was pleasant or unpleasant, they could not yet tell.

Six could almost hear the groan and strain of their armour, its metal sitting heavily on their upper body. It weighed on them both comfortingly and worrisomely; Six knew they couldn’t take it off, not yet. They repositioned their right shoulder, wincing a little as it sung out in pain. Maybe some Med-X once they got to the Vegas walls would help.

“Well, little bot,” Six said finally, noticing that their shadow wasn’t getting any shorter. “Guess it’s time we go and see if we can find our buddy Benny out there, huh?”

The eyebot made no reply, but that was nothing to be concerned about. The heaviness Six felt when they thought of Benny, however, did worry them a little.

Ignoring their own state of mind, they broke their pause and took a first step towards Vegas, the lights of the city already standing out against the quickly darkening sky. ED-E hovered in place for a moment, waiting for Six to be a meter or two ahead of itself before it dutifully floated along behind them, pointing itself towards the glow of New Vegas.


	2. the courier and the eyebot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for misgendering of a nonbinary character because of the POV it's being told from.
> 
> Thanks again to Theo, BATM, and robots for the editing help.

“Sorry, if you’re looking for medical help, you’re going to have to ask one of the other doctors.”  
Arcade Gannon told the person standing in front of him, not looking up from his precariously set up research table.

“Really?” She said dryly, and Arcade’s head whipped up when he recognized her voice.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t know it was you, Julie.” He said, then looked back down at the clipboard in front of him.

“Think I can talk you into coming out front for a little bit?” The other doctor asked, putting one of her hands on top of the sheet Arcade was looking a. He sighed quietly, pushing up his glasses and rubbing at his face, digging his fingers into the corners of his closed eyes.

“What, did some more Kings get beat up again? A mass migration from the Wrangler of guys who realized they got more than they paid for?”

“Not quite.” Julie replied. “I’m going to go see Alice again today. Carden went to go check on Jacob Hoff, so I need you to be a responsible human being for a little bit.”

“What, still beating that old brahmin corpse?” Arcade said, trying to remove her hand from his clipboard. “Alice McLafferty isn’t motivated by good intentions or a drug-free Freeside. She’s not gonna sell you supplies at any kind of a price we can afford.”

“Thank you for telling me what I already know, Arcade.”

“Hey, look, I just saved you a whole journey over to the Crimson Caravan headquarters.” Arcade said, spreading his arms and shrugging. “Now you don’t have to leave the old Fort at all today. Time-saving skills are a valuable asset in the workforce, you should promote me to ‘even farther behind the scenes than usual’.”

He was half joking, really, but Julie’s face didn’t change. She looked at him with tired eyes and a mouth that looked like it wanted to smile, but couldn’t. Arcade sighed, tossing his pencil on the table in front of him and letting his arms fold across his chest, peering up at Julie through his glasses.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

“There’s gotta be something I can do.” Julie insisted, her voice full of a weak determination that Arcade didn’t have the heart to shoot down. “I know, I know it’s pointless to keep begging to Alice or Mick or anyone, really. I just can’t believe that there’s no one out there besides us that actually gives a damn about _people_. I refuse to believe that human beings are only motivated by money, Arcade. I absolutely refuse it.” She paused, her shoulders dropping a little bit. “People like you and I can’t be alone. Not here.”

There was a part of Arcade that wanted to point out that if the world really had those kind of resource-rich, good hearted people, then the Great War probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place. However, something told him that bringing up philosophy and the nature of human beings – as well as a war that happened some 300 years prior – was not going to be the most appropriate thing to tell Julie in that moment.

“Well, no one’s going to fault you for trying.”

He replied, half to himself.

“If you really need me to, alright, I guess I’ll give up my invaluable research –“ his words dripping with the implication that he thought his work was worth coyote shit “-then I suppose I will lend my charm, good looks, and medical skills to the Followers’ front lines today.” Julie did manage to give him a budding smile, this time, and Arcade felt his heart soften just a little.

Arcade wondered what exactly had gotten into him recently _._ He reached out to touch her arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It was almost as if he was demonstrating his concern for the people he’d sworn to help.

A half hour later found Arcade crawling out of the supplies tent where he usually bunkered down; tucked out of sight and out of logical location behind the boxes and barrels they kept back there. He squinted against the bright Vegas sun, taking his glasses off for a moment to wipe them on his labcoat, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of a mid-afternoon, clear, sunny Saturday.

The tent flaps closed behind him, shutting him off from his safe little research niche. The midday sun was hot and high above him, already making his forehead and shoulders feel heavy. Arcade almost immediately wished to go back into the cool, uninhabited interior, but he knew that was both selfish and childish.

The temporary structures in the old Mormon Fort circled the ring of the fort itself, lined up against all walls but one and leaving a wide, open space directly in the center. Arcade was always a little bit glad they weren’t in straight rows across the area, mimicking NCR or any other military organization that may or may not use tents. Instead, Arcade found that the three-sided square arrangement made the Fort feel like the Fort, if that made any sense. It wasn’t Strip-worthy flashy or nearly as decrepit as the rest of the set-ups in Freeside, and it didn’t look as fortified or defended as other settlements in the Mojave were.

The only element of it that at all served as a reminder of the nature of Freeside and the surrounding city was the guard post facing the Fort’s massive wood doors. A table and some chairs stood behind a semi-circle of sandbags; a remnant of the tribe who’d owned this place before they had. Today, though, the guards seemed to be playing Caravan and drinking Sarsaparilla, hunting rifles propped up against the table beside them – this was Vegas, after all.

Arcade put his hands in his lab coat pockets, wandering through the dusty courtyard to a tent on the west side of the encampment; he pushed open the flaps quietly, looking in on its inhabitants.

An older man sat in a chair next to a sleeping boy of about 17 or 18; another youth with dark skin and angry eyes watched from the corner, and looked up at Arcade when he walked in.

“Julie’s out for today.” Arcade said, closing the flaps behind him as he stepped fully into the tent, having to stoop a little bit so his head didn’t hit the ceiling. “How is he, Roy? Still resting?”

“He woke up a bit this morning and we got him to eat a little.” The older man, Roy, replied quietly,. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. “Doctor Zhang took a look at him earlier, said something about him getting better, too.”

“That’s good to hear,” Arcade replied gently, but the faces in the tent didn’t change. Only the sleeping boy seemed to be at all at ease with what was going on around him. “Has anyone come to talk to you about what happened? The King, maybe?”

“Not so far.” Roy told him. “I don’t blame the guy, though. Got a lot on his hands, so I don’t expect him to be able to check up on us right away.”

Arcade could only give the old man a weak smile, unsure of how to comfort him. The doctor didn’t believe that the King would honestly be too busy to ever come and look into the attack that had put Roy and his friends in the Follower’s Fort. He did believe, however, that Roy had lived in Freeside long enough to know it was foolish to depend on anyone - even someone as good-hearted as the King – to help you.

“Come and get one of us if he shows signs of waking up again, okay? Myself or Zhang will do fine.” Arcade told them, and Roy nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back in his stiff metal chair.

Arcade slipped back outside of the tent, reminded of both why he preferred to stick to his research and why he’d signed up with the Followers in the first place.

Most of the other patient tents were occupied by gamblers, the many victims of the Atomic Wrangler or the Strip itself; hung over, capless, and just needing a place to stay for a while and figure out how to get back to wherever they came from.

Arcade didn’t stick around to talk to them too much; with their exhausted, empty eyes and pre-war suits, still trying to shake the dust of a several hundred year legacy off their shoulders. Looking at these half-humans, these beings who inhabited the Wasteland and the Vegas area, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure of their existence. The uselessness, the chaotic, the hopelessness – theirs was a philosophy Arcade didn’t know if he wanted to reconcile himself with just yet. Those thoughts drew him too far into the rabbit-hole of wondering about the nature of the Mojave and the role its inhabitants must play, and well, there he goes again, overthinking it.

Arcade shook himself firmly, pushing through his interactions with the wastelanders and gamblers with the promise of six books on pre-war socioeconomic theories waiting for him back in his tent. Sure, maybe it was running away, but who could blame him for running away from the impending horror of humanity on the brink of collapse at the hands of yet another conflict? Who could fault him for preferring the back of the supplies tent and his research to the hundreds of bodies that passed through Freeside every day, each one of them desiring escape as much as he did?

The courtyard of the Fort remained as quiet as it had been all day; a couple Freeside residents coming through every so often, aching for whatever the Followers could spare. Geoffrey Schiff came back for another dose of fixer, Mauldin Dan, Lady Jane, Grecks… all of them, just looking for a little bit of something, a place to sleep, a plate to eat.

 “Hey, Arcade, there’s a guy looking for a doctor near the back of the Fort.”

Arcade was ripped out of his thoughts by one of the hired guards, Danny, barking at him roughly; her hair pushed back off her face with a dirty bandanna, and a cowboy repeater held loosely at her side. “Got a shiny set of armour and a funny looking robot with him, too.”

“Oh, okay.” He said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. It was warm out here, and it made his face uncomfortably sweaty. “I’ll head right over. Thanks, Danny.”

He turned to make his way back across the courtyard. Armour, huh? Maybe NCR, but Danny would’ve would’ve recognized it and pointed it out. And she’d said it was shiny, which the NCR uniforms were decidedly not. Probably a traveller, or maybe one of the Freeside hired guards. Arcade knew one of them had just bought himself a fancy new set of armor. But Danny had also said he had a ‘funny looking bot’ with him, whatever that meant.

Arcade spotted the stranger well before he got to him; the sunlight did indeed glint off him, the spikes on his steel shoulder pads making him look a bit like a presumptuous cactus. But once he got close to him, Arcade went cold in a way one could only go cold when a piece of their past came back to haunt them.

The newcomer stood about six inches shorter than Arcade was, although the doctor suspected that his armour was bulking him up. He had a pale, narrow face and big brown eyes, his head poking out over the collar piece of the metal chest plate he was wearing.

His hair was light and wavy, although it was so full of dust and grit that Arcade couldn’t properly tell what colour it was. He was dressed from head to toe in metal armour befitting a southern Mojave mercenary or maybe a gang member. He wore a pistol openly on his side, and a duffle bag was slung across his back, looking decently full.

He wasn’t remarkable by any stretch; Arcade could count the men he’d seen dressed and armed similarly in the hundreds. His face was unique only in that it lacked the exhausted despair that seemed to envelop almost everyone who spent any amount of time in or around the Vegas Strip. It had been a while since he’d seen one, but Arcade almost immediately thought of a wasteland coyote in the way this man moved and looked. He was a growl and a whine, intimidating yet small and curious.

That was all normal, though. Nothing out of the ordinary about this fine gentleman. Nothing to make Arcade nearly crap his pants out of sheer surprise. What really threw Arcade off, and made him look at the man much more closely, was the _god damn fucking eyebot_ hovering along beside him.

It followed the armoured stranger dutifully, a couple feet behind him and pointing directly at Arcade. His gaze locked on to it, a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach rocking his entire body.

That was an eyebot, and that was an ENCLAVE eyebot. He could see it in the make of the metal, the rigging of its satellites, the mechanics of it – even the little addition, a small, three-pronged energy weapon addition that Arcade had never seen on an eyebot before, was clearly Enclave make.

His past involvement with a fascist paramilitary organization was hovering innocently next to this person, and Arcade had never seen this man in the Mojave in his life. Considering the fact he had, at one point, knew what he assumed to be every Enclave remnant still existing in the Mojave, this was kind of a shock.

He had to look away from it quickly, nervous that his face showed too many signs of recognition; in reality, he was examining its obvious upgrades. Especially that three-pronged energy weapon addition. The little eyebot was outfitted for battle.

“Can I help you?” Arcade asked, looking down at the shorter man and trying very hard not to glance at the bot behind him. But wouldn’t it be more suspicious if he avoided the bot’s gaze? As if it could understand what was going on…

 “This is the Follower’s Fort, right?” The stranger asked, not making eye contact with Arcade for much longer than a few seconds. He had grey or green eyes, Arcade couldn’t tell which from this far away.

“Yup, that’s us. Couldn’t tell from all the lab coats and general do-good feeling?” Arcade asked, throwing up a defensive line of good old one-sided banter to hide his shock about the _fucking_ eyebot.

“Oh.” Arcade could infer from the look on his face that he didn’t understand. “Sorry, I’ve – I mean, I’m new to the area.” He explained, and Arcade just tilted his head understandingly.

“Well, that’s a first. Most of the people we get around here are locals, or at least from the Mojave area.” Arcade replied. “But yes, this is the Fort. Our fort, not the one on the side of the river. Never heard of anyone getting THAT lost - probably because they never got to come back after they realized where they were.”

The stranger just made a small noise of understanding, nodding and not really saying anything more. Arcade couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t understand the joke or if Arcade had crossed a line of sensitivity. Either way, he had to change the subject.

“Yes, sure, alright, sorry, did you want something?” Arcade said, realizing he’d need to go get files if this man wanted to check in under medical care. Ugh. “We’re a little spread thin right now, but if you’re sick or hurt, we can give you a bed. We can’t house anyone that’s not a patient right now, though, sorry.”

Arcade was about to add that if the man needed a doctor, he should probably find someone else, but of course a friendly little reminder popped into his head that Julie had put _him_ in charge at the moment.

“No, I’m okay,” The stranger replied quickly. “Or, I guess, mostly. I just need some supplies, is all, if you have any to sell.”

“Ah.” Arcade said, reaching for the pencil in his lab coat pocket and pulling it out, flipping it between his fingers. “Yeah, of course. Like I said, though, we really are spread thin, but if you’re willing to pay a few caps we have some supplies to spare.”

He turned around, motioning for the other to follow him, and lead him towards the back right tent – one of the supply tents, which looked depressingly bare as of late.

“I just need three stimpacks.” The stranger said, following Arcade through the tent flaps. Arcade still couldn’t stand quite straight inside the tent, but the stranger fit inside without any problems. The metal armour must really make him look bigger, Arcade thought, watching as his new client’s eyes scanned every part of the room that wasn’t Arcade himself.

“Those’ll run you forty caps a piece, although I doubt you’d be paying less anywhere else.” Arcade told him, kicking the stimpack crate open ungracefully and picking up three of gun-like syringes. The stranger nodded, dropping his sack to the ground and beginning to rummage through to get Arcade’s money.

Caps may be the most widespread currency, but they sure as hell weren’t the most logical or easy to handle. They jingled something fierce and the stranger seemed to be having trouble pulling the right amount from a pocket on his duffle bag. This was especially a problem since he was only his left hand; the other one was bracing the bag gently. It hadn’t been easy to see because of his armour and the way he’d been standing, but something on this man’s right side was hurting him.

“Locals?”

“Wha?”

“Some people just call them Freeside thugs, but they’re a special brand of locals that will hunt you down without much reason for a few caps. You know, anyone in a brahmin skin waving tire irons at everyone who passes by.”

When the newcomer still didn’t seem to understand, Arcade gestured to his right arm. Realization dawned on the other’s face, and he shook his head quickly.

“No, I, uh, I got injured outside of Freeside. By… a gang,” He said, trailing off.

“Oh, so you got hit by Fiends?” Arcade questioned. Was this man from outer Vegas, then?

“Oh, no.” He said, shaking his head again. “They were another one… Jackal gang members, I think? Before Novac…” He nodded to himself, as if solidifying his story. “Snuck up on me, and I didn’t have any stimpacks at the time.”

Arcade knew it really wasn’t his place to ask questions, but the stranger’s story made no sense. He’d just said he was attacked south of Novac, and Arcade knew for a fact that Novac had at least one medic AND a store. Not to mention a population of any size in the wastes would have some sort of basic medical supplies…

Unless the situation outside of Vegas was worse than he expected, and the people in Novac hadn’t been able to spare this traveller a single stimpack. But no, for a few caps, the doctor should have been able to treat him… but what if they didn’t want to? What if this man was a genuine threat, and there was a good reason he had to come all the way to Freeside to get medical supplies?

It isn’t unreasonable to think that, Arcade’s mind happily chimed in, but he pushed the thoughts away. This man had come to the Followers for help, and well, without any good reason not to, they had to help him.

Maybe he saw the sniper’s nest in Novac and got scared. Maybe he just didn’t like the stench of brahmin feces. Wasn’t there a ghoul problem somewhere near there? Tons of totally valid reasons not to want to enter Novac. Do your damn job, Gannon.

“Oh, sorry, one second, I have to go get something for you to fill out.” Arcade said, quickly remembering his duties as Julie’s stand in. “If you’ll wait just one moment…”

Arcade slipped out, assuring the other man he wouldn’t be long with the paperwork. You know, because they were a professional organization and it helped to keep track of who bought what and who brought what. It was tedious, and there was little they could do about a theft that had already happened, but at least they knew if someone was getting a little too grabby around the chems.

Once the tent flap closed behind him, however, and Arcade could stand up straight again, he found himself face to face – nose to laser gun – with the god damn, floating, beeping _eyebot_. In all its Enclave glory.

Arcade stared it straight in the face for a good, long while; he vaguely wondered if this one was still outfitted with any sort of recording device, and if the newcomer would go through its logs one day and see footage of Arcade and it having a stare down.

 _Oh shit_. Right. The stranger, who may or may not have an injury related to a story that didn’t make sense, was travelling with a fucking Enclave eyebot.

He exhaled quietly, a thousand new paranoid theories racing through his mind about the person currently purchasing three stimpacks from the Followers. This threw him off a little; was this man from the Enclave? Had he managed to get his hands on this eyebot some other way?

Either he was completely unaware of what he was travelling with, or he was trying to make some sort of statement, depending on his alignment. There were too many variables and too many things to consider, and Arcade did his best to shut that train of thought down because _god damn it_ he was NOT going to be the one to point out that this stranger was in possession of Enclave technology.

The eyebot made no sound or even recognized that Arcade was there; just hovered in place, steady and silent. Arcade turned away after a few moments, heading towards the northeast corner of the Fort to go collect the folder where they kept records of sales, determined not to think about it and hope that the stranger would just leave.

After managing to collect himself as well as the necessary folder, Arcade returned to the supply tent, finding that the stranger had pulled the 120 caps out and had dumped them on one of the supply crates. Once again, the awkwardness of the currency was brought to mind, but Arcade took them anyway. Money was indeed money, and lord knows the Followers needed the funds.

“I just need some of your information, you know, for our own information.” Arcade told him, pulling out one of the forms and filling out the supplies that the man had purchased. “Name?”

“Name? Oh.” The stranger replied. “It’s Six. Like the number.”

“Just Six?” Arcade said, looking up. It was definitely a bit of an odd name, especially on its own.

“Yeah. Just Six.” Six replied quietly.

“Oh, okay.” Arcade said, wondering if he should write it numerically or alphabetically.  He decided writing ‘6’ might be a bit confusing to anyone else reading the records, so he just wrote ‘Six (Full name)’.

“And where are you from, if I may ask?” Arcade continued.

Six seemed to hesitate a little. “Goodsprings.” He replied finally, his voice still quiet.

Goodsprings, huh? Arcade thought, writing the name of the town. Not much there except prospectors and settlers. This guy obviously wasn’t a settler, but a prospector, Arcade could buy.

“Approximate age?”

“Twenty Two.”

“NCR citizen, New Vegas Resident, or other?”

“Other.”

“And, occupation? Don’t have to be ashamed of whatever it is, we just want to get an idea of what kind of people need our help the most.”

“Makes sense.” Six replied. “I’m a courier.”

Courier. Didn’t really see that one coming. Arcade wrote it down anyway.

So Six was a twenty-two year old courier from Goodsprings who got hit bad enough by Jackal gang members to need medical attention. Oh, and for some godforsaken reason, happened to be travelling with a distinct reminder of a past Arcade tried very hard to bury.

“Thanks for your cooperation.” Arcade said, tucking the report under his arm and wondering if Julie would be impressed he managed to fill it out entirely. “Like I said, we do like to get to know the people we help, so any information you give us on yourself makes that easier.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Six replied, taking his newly acquired stimpacks and zipping them into one of the pockets on his duffle bag. “Thanks for the stims. I’m not sure I got your name.”

“Arcade Gannon.” Arcade replied, going to offer his hand before realizing the only one Six had free was his injured one. Instead, Arcade gestured at the wounded arm. “Sure you don’t want me or someone else to take a look at that while you’re here?”

“No.” Six said quickly, going to take a step back before stopping himself. “I mean – thanks, but, no thanks.”

Six shouldered his duffle bag again, shooting Arcade a smile more like a grimace and pulling back the flaps to exit the tent.

“Well then – “ Arcade said, glancing out the opening to see the eyebot waiting dutifully for its master. “Uh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Six replied, looking over his shoulder.

Arcade had been in half a mind to ask about the eyebot – what is it, where did you get it, did you make it? But he faltered. Instead, he just made some vague motions with his hands in the robot’s direction.

“Uh,” Arcade said, eyes flicking to Six and then back to the eyebot. “Can you leave that thing outside, next time? It’s… weird. I don’t want it freaking anybody out, especially not the patiets. Bizarre robots are kind of a no-no on the recovery checklist.”

Six blinked quickly, but seemed to understand.

“Sure.” He said, turning to leave again. “C’mon, ED-E. Let’s get going."


	3. rusting metal and freeside nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secret: I always found Freeside to be lackluster and full of wasted potential. I took some liberties and rewrote it a little.
> 
> Thanks to Perri, Sam, and BATM for the help with editing. Y'all are great.

Freeside was a strange beast.

It crawled with life. Even when Six found themself alone on a street, they couldn’t escape the distant sound of breaking glass, voices, laughing, and yelling. The town seemed to be in a constant state of burning. Windows smashed, trash can fires - it was like the bombs had just dropped, like these people were still living in the new wreckage of the old world. Shop doors hung open, smatterings of people weaving in and out of them; leaning in the doorways, breaking bottles inside or playing a hand of caravan. Some buildings had a sense of permanence to them. Fixed-up signs advertised makeshift cigarette shops, fruit stands, and windows selling iguanas on sticks and Nuka-Cola.

Easily the most brilliant building on the main street was the one that Six could guess, bemusedly, belonged to the Kings. Music rang out from tinny speakers on the outside; men with slick hair and leather jackets hung around its entrance, like a murder of swaggering crows. Each of them carried a gun holstered at the hip, and watched Six as they travelled past with curious eyes.

Freeside’s inhabitants seemed unbothered by the fact that they were, according to the guards at the gate, living in one of the most dangerous places in the Vegas area. Six had to admire that about them, though. They were brave wastelanders, armed only with tire irons, pool cues, or any other debris that could potentially ward off the more desperate locals. Freeside residents walked with a distinct exhaustion in their step, towards small shops lining the streets or off in the direction of what a young crier said was Mick & Ralph’s. But they kept walking, and that, in and of itself, was admirable.

The main road was dominated by the light at the end of the tunnel, as it were: New Vegas’ brilliant glow, which Six had seen almost always throughout their travels, now beckoned them even closer. It was disturbingly painful to turn away, and shuffle down the side street towards their first destination. A lady on the corner with lips like fire geckos and hair to match proudly belted her advertisement for the Atomic Wrangler, and Six gave her an awkward smile as they walked past. Opposite her, a dark-skinned kid with an energy weapon strapped to his side barked out his sales pitch for the Silver Rush.  

The Atomic Wrangler was not outstanding. If not for the neon sign declaring it a casino, it was just one more wrecked building among many. The bright letters above the entrance were topped off by an animation of a cowboy riding the model of an atom bronco-style. Six pushed open the small door to the cramped interior, stopping for a minute in the entranceway. They were almost immediately hit by the smell of cigar smoke and alcohol, and that was to be their first impression of the Wrangler as their eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

The casino portion was tucked away in the back room; easy to see when you first walked in the door. The main entrance hall opened immediately to the bar on the right and a stage and seating floor on the left; the bar and the stage facing each other from across the room. Slot machines lined the back room as well as the seating area, casual reminders to anyone just dropping by for a quick drink that it didn’t take _too_ long to play. Most of the lights were working, although all of them were dimmed, making the bar feel soft and cool.

It was fairly obvious that this casino, like the majority of establishment around the Mojave, was put together from the leftovers of the old world; repaired curtains, refitted lights, unbroken stools and chairs, slot machines wrestled back to life. What never failed to amaze Six was the ability of the people, in all the placed they’d visited, to make something out of virtually nothing. The inhabitants of the Mojave continue to live in a brilliant defiance of the whole landscape.

The place was alive; people hovered around the seating area in front of the stage, and most of the stools at the bar were full, too. There was a distinct hum, a current of laughter and talking from the casino portion as well. Wastelanders wore their weapons openly here, but no one seemed to be worried about fighting off anyone else. Armed guards hovered around the entrance, and towards the casino area, but they too were drinking and laughing quietly. The Wrangler, like the rest of Freeside, did not lack either bodies or personality.

Six and ED-E drew a few stares as they approached the bar. Prospectors and locals in shabby brahmin-skin outfits stared at Six’s clanking armour; whispering and wondering whether or not they were a merc, but did you _see_ that weird thing beside them? The sharp-dressed woman behind the counter turned to her companion, whispering “That’s a strange lookin robot, innit?” Her companion, a man with combed hair and a dark suit matching the woman’s, just swallowed and nodded, his eyes travelling across ED-E’s round body and down to the pronged weapon at the bottom.

Six sat themselves down on one of the bar stools, used to people staring at their bot friend. It didn’t really bother them; they just hoped no one was thinking about stealing it for parts.  ED-E could probably take care of itself, though, should that happen.

“Hi, welcome to the Atomic Wrangler. What can I get for you?” the same sharp-dressed woman said, letting her companion go back to cleaning a shot glass. The rest of the bar turned away, although some of their eyes lingered for a little longer, curious.

“Do you have any rooms available?” Six asked, keeping their right arm at their side and resting their left forearm on the bar.

“We sure do. Rate’s 10 caps a night, once you leave the premise we’ll assume you’ve checked out. You pay up front,” the woman replied.

“Sounds good,” Six said, beginning the arduous process of digging their caps out with one hand.

“No chems, no harassing our employees, no harassing other customers. We allow weapons but any hostility and you’ll be out on the street. Or dead, depending,” she told them while she waited for the caps. “I’m Francine Garret, and that fella over there is my twin brother James. We own and operate the Wrangler,” she continued, pointing to her companion.

Six managed to dig out the required ten caps, handing them off to Francine. They knew they had plenty of caps, probably enough to stay a week and still be in good shape. They decided that they should still probably count up once they got settled into a room, anyway, just to be sure how much they had.

“Your room is up the stairs and at the end of the hall to the left. You can see it from down here,” Francine said, pointing at one of the doors leading off the second-floor balcony. “Can I get you anything to drink before you head up there?”

“Not right now,” they replied. “Maybe later. Thank you.”

“All right. Take care,” Francine said, nodding them off. Any restlessness she seemed to experience at Six’s entrance was gone, now; Six was just another traveller, with just another piece of weird old-world equipment. Any wariness in her face was replaced by pure curiosity, but curiosity was easier to ignore than worry.

 Six turned, satisfied that they could retire to their hotel room in peace. Heaving their duffle bag back over their good shoulder, they intended on making a beeline for the stairs when a voice from behind stopped them.

“Wait, before you go,” Francine’s brother was speaking to them. A couple of the folks sitting at the bar looked up at James’ voice; but then went back to their drinks or conversations. Six turned to him, tilting their head in acknowledgement and asking him to go on.

James was a tall man with a square jaw and small eyes. A smattering of stubble hesitated to poke through on his chin. His throat quivered a little, eyes flicking nervously between Six and ED-E, who was about a foot and a half behind the courier. The lighting from the stage caught a light layer of sweat on his brow.

“Is… is that yours?” He asked, finally letting his gaze settle on ED-E’s three-pronged energy weapon add on.

“What, ED-E?” Six asked, glancing back at their companion. “Kind of. It follows me. We’re friends.”

“Oh,” James looked a little overwhelmed at the prospect. “I.. are...”

Now even his sister was looking at him funny, trying to get him to shut up through gentle nudges with her foot behind the counter. James shook himself.

“If you need someone to look after it… we have… uh… good security.”

At this, Francine became obviously annoyed with her brother, trying to hide her exasperation as she interrupted him.

“I’m sure the man will do what he feels is right. Have a good night, sir,” she said, torn between trying to glare down her brother and trying to appear pleasant to everyone at the bar.

At her words, Six felt their fists clench, and they forced themselves to ignore that familiar feeling of wrongness that built up in their chest. They just shrugged, mostly to themselves, and turned away from the Garret twins.

No one bothered them as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They pushed the door to their room open, greeted by the quiet atmosphere and a dark room. Once the light was flicked on, Six helped usher ED-E into the room. They then closed the beat-up door behind them, muffling some of the sound coming from the casino downstairs.

Six’s exhaustion hit them in a wave. They shuffled over to the bed to drop their bag and sit down on the covers. The old mattress groaned under their weight, and they sympathized with it; their whole body felt heavy. ED-E hovered unobtrusively in the corner.

Six tilted their chin down, closing their eyes and trying to make themselves relax. The tension in their whole upper body just wouldn’t leave, and they knew they had to take their armour off.

The act of removing their gauntlets, leather and iron, felt like removing shackles. They let their wrists breathe, feeling their hands unclench now that they were exposed to the cool, still air of the Wrangler hotel room. Their fists felt tight, and they clenched and unclenched them, much like they had done when Francine Garret referred to them as a man.

It wasn’t like they didn’t understand that, to anyone else, they would always be the person they’d left in a graveyard in Goodsprings. They could go by their new name and they could hide behind bulky metal plating as much as they liked, but women were women and men were men, and only creatures like ED-E got by without that burden. It stung, and their hands felt tired, but they couldn’t think about that now. They didn’t have the Mojave nights to hide away in; there were people in Freeside, and that meant people would see Six as people knew how to see Six. As a man.

With nothing else to do, they chose to remove the pressure on their injuries. With their left hand, they reached up to undo the buckles underneath the metal chest plate. This unhooked it from the leather body-fitting under armour. Slowly and gently, they kept their injured arm loose at their side as they pulled the metal chest plate and spiked shoulder pads up and off. The dented collar dragged across their dirty face and grimy hair. Once they had it over their head, they let it drop to the bed and slide off onto the floor.

Six stopped for a minute, feeling tired again. That armour would need at the least a good bout of repair work; it probably actually needed replacing, in all honesty. Once they counted their caps and explored Freeside, they could look into that. Worst came to worst, they could always make the haul back to the 188 to get it repaired by Samuel.

The armour wasn’t the only thing in desperate need of repairs, though. Six bit down on their tongue as they slowly undid the side buckles of their under armour, freeing their right shoulder and exposing the flesh. A swirl of blue and black bruising greeted them, and Six had to admire the strength of the legionary that had wielded that spear. Jabbing the butt of it up and under Six’s armour had taken some precision and luck; something Six themselves was all too familiar with.

They turned, their under armour a tangle of buckles and leather snared around their waist. They pulled at the zipper on their duffle bag, watching as the worn canvas groaned open and its contents begin to bulge out.

Six pushed through the mess; empty stimpacks, bullet casings, a combat knife, a can of pork and beans. Insignificance and importance jumbled into one – caps fell out of empty tin cans (that Six couldn’t remember picking up in the first place), Sunset Sarsparilla bottles clinked together, unopened and tempting. Two caravan lunches they’d been too afraid to ever break into, lest they really needed it someday. A weapon repair kit left untouched for the same reason. It was all accumulated baggage of leftovers from the past, of the new beginning they carried from Goodsprings, of bits and pieces of survival they picked up along the way.

Tucked in on the side of the duffle bag was a worn notebook, tied with a piece of twine to keep the loose pages hastily tucked into it from falling out. A pencil was also tucked under the twine; nearly too small to be of any use at this point. Six gave the book no special attention, save to gently set it aside from the rest of the things they were sifting through.

Finally, they managed to pull out two of the new stimpacks they’d purchased from Arcade Gannon in the Old Mormon Fort that afternoon. As they lined up the first one to push into their shoulder, they felt a pang of guilt for having lied to his face. It never got easier to deceive honest people, but Six had no interest in putting their trust in a stranger ever again.

The Followers, from what they’d seen, seemed to be a good lot – and goodness was hard to find and even harder to believe, from Six’s experience. It felt wrong to think of it like that. Of course there were good people, good people who deserved to live peaceful lives, but the more Six spoke to others, the more they found themselves biting down arguments, pushing back disagreement.

It wasn’t that disagreement was anything new. It was just that after Nipton, they found themself far more inclined to side with anyone who wasn’t – who wouldn’t do to a place what was done to Nipton.

But that’s what got them in this predicament in the first place, wasn’t it? Six pushed the second needle into their shoulder, sucking in air through their clenched teeth as they felt the sharp pain that came before the slow, dull warmth of healing. Nelson – the Legion – Vulpes – they all mixed together, they all burned their heart with a sickness. It was underscored with a fierce current of guilt; the guilt of letting the men who torched Nipton walk free.

Six tossed the empty stimpack down onto the bed beside them, reaching up and digging their fingers into their now mostly healed shoulder. Then they relaxed their hand again, already tired of digging into the past.

They pulled their metal boots off and let them hit the floor, thudding loudly on the wood. Their shoulder was still stiff, even if the stimpacks had healed the damage. They stood up with a groan, pulling off the rest of their under armour, letting it sag into a heap at their feet.

It was easy to ignore how filthy they felt while they were still fully dressed. Now, standing mostly naked, they could feel the weeks of dirt and sand caking their skin. They’d washed up every chance they had, but their last good bath had been in Novac. Washing had become near impossible after they’d been hit by Caesar’s assassins; their shoulder rendered useless and their priority had been to get to safety.

Six didn’t have a mirror in their room, but perhaps that was for the best. They didn’t want to look at themself, not before they had a chance to wash up properly and comb their hair and maybe get some new armour. This old metal shit just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

They did have a clean pair of clothes – taken off a dead Powder Ganger – that was relatively dirt, blood, and hole-free. Showering was going to be necessary, but that could wait until after they had ate and slept.

Six had a lot to do before they could move on; if they had enough to stay at the Wrangler for a week, they should have enough time to regroup. There was the issue of replacing armour – maybe they would sell the parts – and weapons needed to be cleaned, repaired; ammo needed to be restocked, and it wouldn’t hurt to buy a couple Sarsparillas. Maybe some more stimpacks from that same doctor again.

“I wonder if there’s any showers here, eh, ED-E?” They said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen while they’d been lost in thought.

ED-E shifted its position, bobbing slightly where it hovered. Otherwise, it gave no indication that it understood.

“I just wanna wash up,” Six said, slowly pulling their bag further open. They pulled out the clean clothes, glad to see they seemed to have survived the journey dust-free. “You can wait here, okay? I won’t be gone long.” They pulled the shirt over their head, wrinkling their nose a little as they felt it sticking to their chest and underarms.

“You’re lucky, ED-E,” They commented, pulling on their pants and grabbing a handful of caps to shove into their pockets. “You don’t get stinky when you get dirty. It must be nice, to be made of steel.”

ED-E did whistle a little reply, and it made Six smile just the tiniest bit. With one last wave to their robot friend, they left the room, stepping back out into the Wrangler. Armourless and tired, the courier began their search for somewhere to wash the dust of the Mojave off their back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been a long time since I last updated, but it's probably only been 8-9 days? 
> 
> What I wanted to say is I have finals this week, so chances are I won't be properly sitting down to write chapter 4 until Friday at the earliest. I have some stuff written up already, so it's sitting in my mind, but I really need to focus on algebra. Woo!
> 
> I do have a plan for where this fic is gonna go, and I'm pretty confident nothing short of my death will stop me from seeing this through. Thanks for reading! If you have any critique, notice anything (even if it's just spelling or grammar or you think something doesn't work right) feel free to point it out to me. It helps me write better.


	4. a damn fine glass of sarsaparilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sam, Perri, and BATM for the beta help.

“There’s just no reasoning with her, is there?” Julie declared angrily as she swooped her way into the tent.

Arcade didn’t even look up from what he was doing. His fingers looked far too large against the delicate equipment as he carefully arranged the broc flower leaves on the scale.

“McLafferty again?”

 “No, Liz,” Julie replied. Arcade looked up at her over his glasses.

“Liz…?”

“Oh,” Julie sighed. “Kieran. Elizabeth.”

“The NCR Major?” Arcade asked. “Have they been stirring up trouble with the Kings again? Or vice versa? And since when were you two on a first-name basis?”

Julie seemed to freeze a bit.  She deflated slightly, taking a moment to glance around the tent.

“Not… exactly,” She responded, the side of her mouth twitching just a little bit, her eyes expressionless. “I mean, we get along well, right? Liz and I. But I know what she thinks of me, that I’m soft, that what I do – what we do –“ she gestured around the tent “ – is so far off what Freeside really needs, you know? She thinks it needs a good NCR kick in the boot, and… they still refuse to extend their services to the locals. They’ve set up a nice little camp near the old railroad tracks. They don’t treat Freeside like an established city, they treat it like invaded territory. And that doesn’t mean I AGREE with the King, you know, about kicking them out, but Freeside can’t be treated like that. This is a living, breathing place. It has its own way of existing. Military shit is good and fine, but…. But this is Vegas.”

Arcade knew what she meant. He wasn’t sure how he felt about becoming so incredibly attached to temporary places, but maybe that was just survival for some people. Freeside was dangerous and it was ugly, a grotesque outcropping of concrete and smoke bubbling off of the strip and bulging out of the desert landscape. But when Julie talked about Freeside, she talked about it like a person, or maybe something more than a person. She recognized it as breathing, organic, and thriving; maybe not perfectly, and maybe not well, but it had a heartbeat. He thought that maybe this was why the locals, the Kings, and Julie felt so strongly about someone trying to take their Freeside from them. They wanted a better Freeside, sure, but they wanted their home to be their home.

“This is true,” Arcade said, his eyes meeting Julie’s calmly. “And as much as I greatly enjoy the company of our NCR friends in the ghetto, I have to admit I haven’t had much one on one interaction. Did they come through the Fort?”

“….No.” Julie replied. “I ran into Liz near Mick and Ralph’s. Apparently she’s been trying to strike up some sort of deal with them, NCR-sanctioned or whatever, and hasn’t had much luck.”

 “Sounds like a situation we know well,” Arcade said. He sat back in his chair, feeling it groan under his weight. His fingers ran over the rough wood texture of the desk; over and over, in the same pattern, soothing and deliberate. He liked his tent, his cramped, dusty little corner with the pleasingly textured wood desk and crates. He felt his most rational here. “Well, NCR squatters aside, we are dangerously low on Med-X. I mean dangerously. If you’re thinking of maybe setting up another donation bucket with someone to stand guard beside it, it might be a good idea.”

Julie looked a bit frustrated, still, but her frustration didn’t seem to be coming from their lack of supplies. She nodded to acknowledge that she’d heard what Arcade had said, but her face said that her mind was still elsewhere; perhaps still involved in their conversation about the NCR.

 “Yeah, I guess so.” She replied after a moment. “I’ll… go talk to Carden about it. Maybe see if we can get to the 188 to do some trading, or even Novac. If you feel like heading down there again.”

Arcade didn’t like to pretend he was some genius when it came to reading people. The only reason he could pick up on Julie’s frustration so well was because he was close with her. Arcade didn’t particularly dislike any of his other coworkers, but Julie was special. For all she was different from him, she was safe and easy on a level no one else ever could be. Julie was passionate and optimistic and a bit idealistic, in his view, but Arcade couldn’t find it in himself to fault her for being any of those things. Julie Farkas would never conquer the wastelands, but having her in them made it a bit more liveable.

“Maybe,” he said, looking up into her eyes briefly before looking away again, never good with prolonged eye contact. “If we need to, I will. We’ll see what we can scrounge up around here first, I guess. There’s got to be someone around New Vegas willing to sell for the right price.”

Even just saying that made Arcade wince. They did not have the caps. They honestly, truly, swear-to-god just did not have the funds to be spending ridiculous amounts on the supplies they needed. If only Arcade could get his _fucking_ shit together and maybe his research would go _somewhere_ –

But no, it was selfish to be thinking about things like that, especially right now. Yes, he was disappointing Julie, and yes, she did him a huge favour by letting him ‘help’ the Followers from behind the scenes, but he still had a job to do. He wasn’t a very good researcher, and a lot of his true passions (once again, pre-war socioeconomic theories) were relatively useless, but the least he could do was be a good friend. Some people need that, every once in a while.

“You’re right,” Julie sighed, and the exhaustion in her voice made Arcade anxious. “There’s some way we can get by. We just have to keep moving forward, is all.”

“Yeah,” Arcade replied, running his fingers over the wood of his desk again. He felt helpless, and a little bit tired; talking about lacking supplies or funds was always draining, no matter how many times they had to do it.

“You look like you could use a Sarsaparilla,” Julie commented after a moment, and Arcade just smiled.

“Are you offering?” He said, quietly moving his pencil so it sat neatly and lined up beside his clipboard.

“I may have two or three tucked under my bed inside the nice, cool Fort, yeah.” Julie replied with a hint of a smile. “Would you like to come in and drink one? You can keep the cap, too, I don’t mind.”

Arcade let out a dramatic sigh, looking down at his work with an over exaggerated frown. “I dunno… you know how hard it is for me to step away from my work…”

“Yeah, cut the crap, or I’ll give it to Danny,” Julie said, and Arcade promptly stood up.

“Okay,” he pushed his chair back, making Julie laugh. It was a good sound.

They stepped out from the tent and into the late afternoon sun, the sky turning a bit orange, casting the whole courtyard into a darkening haze. Arcade stretched a little, appreciating not being in a cramped space. The tent was nice and secluded, but it felt good to unfold himself every once in a while.

“Busy today?” Arcade asked Julie as they walked across the yard, passing by a couple of doctors chewing on iguana bits.

“Kind of,” Julie told him. “Lots of people nursing hangovers. Apparently there were a couple of gamblers who won a decent amount and were celebrating by buying everyone rounds at the Wrangler.”

“Well, better than more people needing limbs sewn back on thanks to Fiends,” Arcade replied quietly. As they walked by, the flap to one of the patient’s tents opened, and Arcade caught a glimpse of dark, sturdy armour and blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

It took him a moment, and he had to look twice, but he realized with a jolt that it was the courier from a few days ago.

Striding toward them with confidence and determination, Six’s jaw was locked and his eyes sharp. For a very brief moment, Arcade felt as though he was looking at an entirely new person; mysterious, handsome, defiant. His footsteps were strong and solid, and Arcade felt as if each and every one of them was a drumbeat; bump, bump, bump, kicking up a bit of dust on the floor of the Old Mormon Fort.

The magic was broken when Six made eye contact with Arcade. His entire body seemed to freeze up, and any dignified look left in it was dropped completely. Arcade looked away quickly, concentrating on the chest plate of Six’s armour.

Six had ditched his old metal armour in favour of combat-worthy battle regalia. The reinforcements on this was much less bulky and overbearing, and while it made Six appear smaller, it certainly made him look less ridiculous. Holstered over his back was a sleek, black assault carbine; brand new and deadly.

His face had been washed since he was last at the Old Mormon Fort, and his hair combed. A quick glance told Arcade that Six was not naturally blond. His roots were growing in dark, and it amused Arcade to no end to know that the courier bleached his hair.

Six’s steps faltered; he carefully slid his way up to the two doctors, glancing in between Julie and Arcade. He stopped a few feet in front of them, and Arcade only then realized that his eyebot was nowhere to be seen. That’s… worrisome.

 “Is that from the Gun Runners?” Arcade asked about Six’s new attire. It was definitely better quality than anything you could buy inside Freeside. Julie gave Arcade a surprised look; he realized that she had never met Six before, and was probably wondering how Arcade knew him.

Six looked directly at Arcade, his face a lot paler than Arcade remembered it being. Had he been in Freeside this whole time? Arcade wondered, finding it odd that no one would have talked about an odd-looking fellow being followed around by an eyebot.

“Yeah, it is.” Six replied, subconsciously reaching up to touch the chest plate of his armour, as if to check if it was still there. “My old armour was really worn, and I figured I could use some better protection…” His voice sounded nervous and distant. It was almost awkward, talking to the strange courier like this, but morbid curiosity kept Arcade there.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Julie interjected, and Six looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m Julie Farkas, and this is the Old Mormon Fort. Do you require any medical assistance?”

“Oh, no, I’m quite fine, thank you,” Six said in a hurry, glancing away. “I’m actually here on an errand. The King sent me.”  

“The King?” Arcade asked, at the same time Julie replied “Why did he send you?” Arcade’s response went largely ignored, although Julie did look at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I was here earlier,” Six explained. “Also at the King’s request. There’s some men here who were attacked, and he wanted me to find out why.”

It took Arcade a moment to figure out who Six was talking about. The courier must have been talking about Roy and his young companions, he decided.

“Did you find anything?” Julie said, her voice a little hopeful. Six made a face.

“Not really, but I have a lead,” he said honestly. “Do you know of any NCR squatter camps around here?”

“Squatter camps?” Julie echoed, and Arcade saw her eyes flicker a little. “I dunno. You can try talking to Liz Kieran.”

“Liz Kieran?”

“Major Kieran. They have a soup kitchen near the train tracks in the north part of Freeside. You can get there by heading past the water pipe, or through an abandoned building past the Wrangler,” Julie replied. “Why do you need to talk to the NCR?”

“Because it appears those boys were attacked by someone who went by ‘Lieutenant’,” Six said quietly. Julie looked alarmed.

“You mean you think the NCR has been attacking locals?” Julie asked, horrified. Six’s eyebrows knit together.

“Not necessarily,” he replied. “It could be isolated. I honestly don’t know. The King alluded to some conflict, but I don’t really have a frame of reference.”

Arcade raised his eyebrows a little, and Julie glanced at him. A silent look exchanged was exchanged between them before Julie answered Six’s question.-

“There is… a lot of tension between the NCR and the locals.” Julie explained. “I don’t even know how willingly Liz will open her doors to you. If you tell them that you’re there for her – if you tell her that I sent you – you might have an easier time.” Julie said.

Six looked a bit surprised at how ready Julie was to help him. Arcade laughed inwardly, but also felt a little dismayed _. Looks like the wastes haven’t changed a bit, if someone like Julie comes at a surprise_.

“Thank you, for your help,” Six said, looking at Arcade briefly, then back to Julie again. “I’ll do my best to help sort this out. I don’t want to see bad things happen to good people,” he paused. “My name’s Six, by the way. I’m a courier. I’ll be around Freeside for a while.”

“Are you on a job?” Julie asked. “If you need medical services, our doors are always open. I’m afraid we’re not in a position to be giving out free medical supplies, though.”

“That’s alright.” Six said. “I’m fine, for now. Your friend,” he gestured to Arcade, “helped me earlier.”

“He came by and bought some stimpacks,” Arcade explained quickly, and Julie gave him a bit of a look. _Damn it, Arcade_. _Don’t let her know that this guy weirds you out. That’s not a question you want to be answering right now._

“It was nice to meet you, Six,” Julie replied gently. “It’s really amazing of you to be helping out in Freeside. It means a lot to the whole community, I promise.”

Six was a little stunned at Julie’s praise, and Arcade could see his cheeks turning a little pink.

“I’m – you’re welcome,” Six replied, stuttering a little. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” _Huh. Cute_.

“I’ll let you go now,” Julie said. “But like I said, our doors are always open. Please be careful around here, okay?”

“I will,” Six promised, and smiled a little at Arcade before turning to leave.

Arcade realized that if he wanted to ask his question, he was going to have to ask it now. He took a step forward, raising his hand up. “Hey – Six – “ It felt wrong to say his number-name so casually.

“Yeah?” Six turned back to him, and Arcade stopped.

“Uh… what happened to your eye – I mean – robot?” Arcade asked.

“Oh, I left it outside,” Six replied. “Isn’t that what you asked me to do?”

Arcade didn’t want to see the look Julie was giving him right now. “Oh… right,” He replied, shrinking a bit. “Uh…. Thank you for being so respectful, it… really helps the patients,” he finished lamely.

Six’s eyebrows raised just the tiniest bit, looking Arcade up and down before giving him a tight smile. “No problem,” he replied quietly. “See you around, Doctor Gannon.”

Six did then turn and walk away, his sleek, intimidating armour hugging him around the hips as he strode off with much the same determination he’d approached them with.

What did this mean, if Six was doing favours for the King? Maybe he did just happen to be a random traveller who’d come across a valuable and unique piece of Enclave technology, and decided to fix it up as a companion… But that still didn’t explain why Six had lied about being attacked by gangs south of Novac.

So much for a relaxing Sarsaparilla on a hot evening.

 “He’s cute,” Julie commented.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Arcade,” Julie said, sliding up beside him and slinging an arm around his shoulder, any trace of her kind smile replaced by a wolfish grin. “Or should I say – _Doctor Gannon_.”

“If you’re implying that-“

“I am absolutely implying. You were _nervous_ around him. You don’t get nervous around guys for nothing,” Julie said, grin still plastered across her face.

Oh. Oh god, Julie thought he was nervous around Six for such a juvenile, ridiculous reason. As if Arcade didn’t have better things to do than run around flirting with couriers who may or may not have some sort of connection to the Enclave.

“Absolutely not,” Arcade replied.  “Let’s not do this today, shall we?”

“What, so I’m guessing you don’t want to have a quiet drink and tell me why you didn’t mention a cute boy came by and apparently knows your name already?” Julie teased.

“Julie,” Arcade said, his voice very serious. “Please. Drop it.”

Julie half looked like she wanted to continue digging into Arcade’s relationship with Six – he felt half guilty, and half sad, because she knew how long it had been since Arcade had a companion – but she did stop. Her giddy grin turned into a softer smile, and she reached out to touch his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Julie said quietly. “That was a bit rude of me, wasn’t it?”

“It’s okay,” Arcade said, his voice a lot softer. “I know you didn’t mean any harm.” When she stilled looked a little worried, Arcade forced a smile. “Come on. You can make it up to me with that Sarsaparilla you promised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the first half of a much longer chapter, but the time skip I had planned was slightly jarring and I wanted to upload something to assure people this fic was still ongoing.  
> I'm gonna stop making promises about when these chapters are gonna be up, though. I am determined to finish this, and no amount of poor mental health or busy holidays will stop me.


	5. otherside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - started my second semester of college, got in a car accident, need to have teeth pulled. All sorts of good stuff.
> 
> Thanks to BATM, Perri, and Sam for the editing help.

The wasteland, for all its hardships, was familiar enough to Six that they could navigate it with their Pip-Boy map and a bit of luck. Freeside, on the other hand, was a different story.

They returned briefly to the Atomic Wrangler in order to gather themself and figure out their next course of action; going back to their room after exchanging a brief nod to James and Francine. After they shut the door behind them, they turned on the light, greeting ED-E with a click of their tongue.

“I need to find the old railroad tracks,” they said, speaking to the eyebot currently hovering over their bed. ED-E replied with a whistle, and Six gave it a lopsided smile. They removed the assault carbine slung over their back, unloading the clip and placing it carefully in the locking wardrobe.

“Yeah, me neither,” Six said to ED-E, beginning to peel off their armour and lay It out on the bed, stripping down to their underwear. “I think I might be able to ask around to figure out where I have to go. You wanna come with me tonight?”

ED-E tweeted a little bit, bobbing and down, almost smacking into the light fixture on the ceiling. Six took that as a yes.

Six started to dig through their duffle bag, Sarsaparilla bottles clinking at the bottom of it as they dug out their lighter clothes. As they unrolled the shirt, something dropped out, landing on the floor. They picked up the empty stimpak they’d used. It was the one they’d bought from the Followers fort, from that doctor. What was his name? Gannon. Arcade Gannon. And his friend Julie.

While Arcade had seemed as awkward as he’d been when Six first met him, Julie had been an anomaly. So far, the people they’d met in Freeside – the Garrets, the Kings, Freeside mercenaries – had been fairly typical of wastelanders; not necessarily cruel, but far from gentle, far from kind. Julie had reminded them more of Doc Mitchell; but even then, the comparison was too rough, and probably influenced by their shared profession. She hadn’t just been helpful; she’d been… _supportive_. It almost made them laugh, how _bizarre_ that had felt. It was… refreshing.

That wasn’t to diminish what the Kings or the Garrets had done for them, even if the mercenaries were still kind of dickish. The Garrets were good to them because they were a paying customer, and the King valued them for their grunt work. And Six didn’t blame them – they had an agenda.

Six pulled the lightly bloodstained t-shirt over their head, tucking it into their pants after remembering how comically baggy it was. After repacking their duffle bag and putting it back in the locked wardrobe, they strapped their combat knife to their thigh and left the room.

ED-E followed them down the stairs, bobbing lower each time Six went down a step, as if the little eyebot was travelling down the steps itself. The bar was beginning to get crowded, and Six hovered on the edge for a minute, watching groups of bodies piling in to the casino, moving past the bar to the gambling tables, or staying to watch while an act of two girls set up on stage. Francine was working quickly, looking a bit hot in her black suit as she took orders from half-drunk locals and mercs hanging over the bar. She must’ve felt them watch her, though, because as she looked up from the group of women she’d been talking to, her eyes met Six’s.

“Hey, you look lost, friend,” Francine called out. Ever a good businesswoman, she waved him over. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Six made their way to the bar, having to sidestep a couple gamblers crowding near James’ end.

“Not right now, thanks.” They replied once they were closer. “I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to the old railroad tracks?”

“The railroad tracks?” Francine replied, reaching over to grab a glass and hand it to her brother. “Yeah, you can either go back towards Freeside’s north entrance and take a left at the first intersection, or you continue north on the road right outside the Wrangler. On the right hand side of the street, there’s an empty old office building with an unlocked door you can go through, right at the end, and it’ll take you there. Careful, though, it can be easy to miss.”

“Thanks,” Six said with a smile, and behind them, ED-E moved out of the way for a couple bewildered looking caravan guards.

With a promise to return and buy some Sarsaparillas before they retired for the night, they left the Atomic Wrangler, ED-E zipping dutifully along behind them.

It wasn’t quite dark yet when they stepped out into Freeside, the streets marked with shadows and streaks of orange and reds. The setting sun glinted off of ED-E’s metal plating, making it look a bit like a ball of fire as it weaved along behind Six, the courier jogging down the street towards the abandoned house as they began their search for the railroad tracks.

The office building at the end of the road, although crumbling, seemed relatively sturdy for its situation and age; time and bombs had taken massive chunks out of the walls, and it seemed a miracle that the divider door still remained. Six picked their way through the garbage littering the floor, almost tripping over an old man sleeping cramped up against the stairs.

“Sorry,” Six whispered, but the old man did not stir. He barely shifted in his sleep as Six danced around him. ED-E beeped at Six, and Six shot the little bot a look.

Careful not to trip over him again, they slipped through the divider door. They held it open for ED-E, wincing a little as the hinges screamed in protest once they let it go.

Six now found themself in what they assumed had been the back half of the destroyed building, full of broken plants and shattered glass. They hurried out of the way of the sagging ceiling, out into one of Freeside’s back streets. They could see a portion of the Freeside outer wall from here, and the curve of railroad tracks running beside it.

They picked their way over the rubble, walking towards a small, boarded-up building they assumed must have been the old train station. ED-E weaved through the pillars holding up the monorail high above them, occasionally stopping as if to examine something.

The station itself was shut tight, boarded up on every possible entrance. With time and crowbar, of course, Six could probably get into it – but life was too short to waste breaking into landmarks of the old world.

Besides, they had a job to do.

This part of Freeside wasn’t nearly alive as the rest of it. The deserted train tracks made Six anxious, their spokes and rails like tombstones, lined up, orderly, worn. The buildings, too, were mostly collapsed and boarded up, useless and probably already plundered for anything that could be salvaged. Their windows stood empty and dirty, reflecting the slowly dimming orange light, the only time they were ever lit anymore.

There was no neon, no sounds of shouting, no music, no smells of wasteland food being burnt or the noises of drinking and gambling that came from the Wrangler. It was all rubble, wrought iron, sticking up out of the ground like the ribcage of a long dead beast. Six walked cautiously along next to the railroad, careful not to step on any of the rail itself, least they disrespect the grave.

Six probably would have missed it, if it had been but a little bit darker; the slowly lengthening shadows of two men, standing quiet and alert near one of the ruined stores. Six stood quietly, watching from behind a couple uprooted slabs of concrete, just faintly able to make out the plain NCR uniforms they wore.

With ED-E still in tow, they hopped over the broken walls, approaching the soldiers head on with empty hands. They were noticed almost immediately.

“We’re going to need the password. NCR citizens only.” The man on the left spoke first. He had short cropped hair and dark skin, and dwarfed his companion by almost half a foot. Six paused for a minute, watching as both of the guards looked being the courier, and recognized their confused expression as the same one everyone else had when they first saw ED-E. The guards moved closer together, eyeing up both the newcomer and their eyebot, ready to defend what was inside the ruined store with their lives.

“I’m here to see Major Liz. Liz Kieran.” Six declared, slapping themself for the slip up. Trying to keep their voice firm and confident, they continued.. “It’s… uh… an emergency.”

It was worth a shot, at least. The two guards looked at each other, then back to the courier.

“…I suppose that’s alright. Go on in.” The taller guard said, figuring that Six must be alright if they knew Major Kieran by name, or that Six wasn’t that big of a threat. He was still eyeing the eyebot, though. Sensing his discomfort, Six made a passing remark as he opened the door.

“Oh, uh, you should be getting some of these models shortly.” They said. “They’re brand new…. Carrier bots. For carrying stuff.”

“…Right.” The guard said, still watching the bot carefully. “I can’t wait.”

As the door closed behind ED-E and Six, the courier heard the muffled sound of the guards saying “Sure as hell hope we don’t get one of those. Freaky looking little bot.”

Now inside the NCR soup kitchen, Six had to let their eyes adjust to the dim light. Another NCR soldier was lighting kerosene lamps over the counter, and a second one was sitting at the foot of a caved-in staircase, smoking a cigarette. While the top half of the store seemed to be unreachable, the bottom half had been transformed; the shelves to the back of the store stocked with maize, mutifruits, canned beans, fresh water, and cigarettes. Dirty-faced people crammed into corners on broken tables and chairs, ripping into gecko bits and mashed pinto beans, the smell of coyote stew wafting through the whole room. The place had been cleaned out, rubble moved to an empty storeroom behind the counter, shelving units crammed against every wall and several gas stoves lined up on the counter.

Despite the three guards that were standing around the line-up that formed through the middle of the room, and the one on the stairs, only one person was behind the counter, wearing an NCR Major’s uniform. Her jacket was cast aside, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, and Six assumed she would be the person Julie had identified as Major Kieran. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she scooped warm stew into bowls, passing that and bottles of water over the counter to the waiting wastelanders. Underneath the thin cotton of her shirt, her arms were strong and tanned, cooking with the same vigor one might use while trying to resuscitate a man. Her hair was tied back in a kerchief, but strands of it managed to curl their way out of confinement, falling down against her gaunt cheeks and tall forehead.

Six paused near the door for a couple heartbeats, but the close quarters of the ruined store made it hard not to notice them. Liz Kieran glanced up, noticing the newcomer as soon as her eyes made a sweep of the store. When she noticed them, she straightened her back, standing tall and confrontational; almost proud.

“Do you want some stew?” She called out to Six, her hands finding a dry dishtowel and wiping her hands on it. “Go ahead and get in line. We have enough.”

Six glanced at the NCR squatters lined up for stew, and they quietly shook their head.

“You’re Major Kieran, correct?” They asked instead, and the major nodded, setting down her dish towel.

“Then I need to speak with you,” Six continued, glancing around the room to try and locate a quiet place. “Alone, if possible.”

That seemed to get her attention. With a serious face and a military stride, she handed off her soup ladle to one of the guards, a tall woman with short-cropped blond hair who quickly took over at the counter.

Kieran pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her breast pocket, sliding one out and offering to Six. Six shook their head, and Kieran made no acknowledgement, only produced a lighter and stuck the cigarette between her teeth.

“Let’s talk, then.” She said, fixing him in a tired gaze. Her look was one of a woman expecting bad news.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Six said, momentarily distracted by the exhaustion in her face. It spoke volumes of the humanity that resonated in the room, in the squatters currently lining up for a bowl of hot coyote stew. “Is everyone here an NCR citizen?”

Kieran locked them in a long stare, paused with her lighter half down from her mouth, the ends of her cigarette burning brightly as it hung from her lips.

“Yeah. We serve the citizens in need before anyone else.” She said quietly, pocketing the lighter and crossing one arm over her chest. She leaned into the wall, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the store corner.

“And you don’t serve the locals?” Six asked, hesitation in their voice. Kieran’s pose went from relaxed to stiff in an instant, and she took the cigarette out from between her lips.

“That isn’t something I want to talk about right now.” Kieran replied tersely. “And I’m beginning to wonder how you got in here.”

Six tensed up a little, very much feeling the urge to just turn around and leave. They glanced around the room again, seeing some of the other soldiers seemed to be picking up on Major Kieran’s frustration, and were looking over at the two of them.

“I’m not… NCR…” They admitted straight up, their hands open and apologetic. “I came here on the recommendation of… a doctor.”

Kieran barked a laugh.

“A doctor? Someone prescribing our stew as a cure? That’s a new one. Tell them I’m flattered, but they’re crazy if they think we work miracles here,” she told them. Six pushed a hesitant smile onto their face.

“No… she didn’t send me here for a remedy,” they replied. “Julie Farkas said you could help me investigate something around Freeside.”

The change in Major Kieran was almost immediate. While she’d been smiling before, her face almost immediately softened – her rough features melting into something warmer, her eyes full of sparkle.

“Julie sent you?” She asked Six, the hand holding her cigarette hanging by her side, ignored. “Well, if Julie thinks you’re alright, you’re alright. The Followers are a good lot.”

“I… I’m actually doing some work for the Kings right now,” Six said, taking their chance while Major Kieran seemed to be in a good mood. “He asked me to do some investigating around NCR activity in the area,” at the look on her face, they backtracked. “I mean… not like… spying or anything. Some of the locals are being attacked, and they think it might have been…. NCR citizens... or something. He just wanted me to…” they paused. “To see if I could figure who’s been stirring up trouble.”

Kieran stuck them with a long, hard look, before she sighed. She reached up to push her kerchief back with the heel of her palm, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth.

“Look… you’re not NCR, so usually I wouldn’t tell you this, because this is confidential. I’m a little hesitant to tell you anyway, even if you are Julie’s friend. I know her, and I know how susceptible she is to sympathy,” Major Kieran told them, bring their cigarette back to their mouth for a moment. “There’s a reason we don’t serve the locals. The King hasn’t exactly made it seem like he’s open to us aiding in the relief effort in Freeside – at all. I sent an envoy over to him when we first arrived, to see if he’d be interested in cooperation, but the King’s men put more cracks in his skull than the kid deserved for trying to fucking help. ‘Course, now Camp Mccarran doesn’t seem too eager to send more supplies where they’re worried it’ll be looted and wasted, and since we don’t have help from the Kings, I just don’t have the ability to serve everyone in Freeside. I’m just trying to keep my people alive, you understand?”

Six hadn’t heard anything of that, neither from locals or the King, in any of the time they’d spent going back and forth trying to figure out what was going on. It was surprising and frustrating; this conflict between the NCR and the Kings was disruptive to what Six saw as the already precarious fabric of Freeside life, and new information was just making the knots even harder to untangle.

Not sure what to say in order to reassure her, Six chose their next words carefully. “Thank you for letting me know… To be honest, I’m not from Freeside. I just got here this week. I’m helping out because I need to get somewhere,” they paused. “But I want to do the best I can, really. To help. If that makes any sense.”

“You’re not from Freeside?” Major Kieran asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Interesting. Don’t see many outsiders hanging around with the locals, then. You know Julie from before?” Six shook their head.

“No. I just met her today, actually. I’d been to the Old Mormon Fort when I first got into town, and I dunno, I kinda like it there. It’s easy.”

Major Kieran surprised them by laughing. When Six gave her a look, she just smiled, shaking her head.

“Is it weird if I say I kind of know what you mean?” She told them. “Frustratingly easy. My advice would be don’t hang around too long, or you’ll get sucked in.”

“Is that… something you know from experience?” Six asked curiously. Kieran gave him a smile, full and radiant, like when they’d first brought up Julie.

“Guess you can say that.” She replied. “But I guess you might fit in there already. If you’re willing to try and help a bunch of locals and some soldiers figure out what the hell’s going on.”

“I’m… just worried me doing this is disruptive,” Six replied honestly. “Because what do I know about Freeside or the NCR? I’m from Goodsprings. I’m here on a job.”

“Maybe you bringing an outside perspective is a good thing,” Major Kieran offered. “It’s less biased. You’re less likely to go on emotional attachment, and you can think rationally. Lord knows we’re having a hell of a time right now, with the King getting on Radio New Vegas and saying he wants the NCR out. As if he or anyone wants a claim on Freeside, especially as it is now.”

“…I think it’s hard to not get emotional,” Six responded quietly. “I mean, I want to give it my best, you know? And I don’t like to see young kids getting beat up over some sort of conflict they’re not involved in. It… hits close to home.”

“So you want to protect the locals?” Major Kieran pressed. Six shook their head.

“I don’t know what I want, and like I said, I’m not local or NCR. I don’t know what’s best for anyone around here. I don’t know if I have an answer. I honestly just don’t like seeing people hurt.”

“…I guess that’s kind of what I meant by not biased,” Kieran said. “You remind me a bit of Julie, you know? Not entirely. Julie thinks she has answers, and, well, I guess I think I have answers too. You’re just full of questions. You look worried sick with them.”

Six must’ve looked at her funny, because she laughed at their reaction.

“I’m sorry?” they offered, but Kieran dismissed them with a shake of her head. The two of them were drawn out of their conversation by one of the NCR soldiers whistling, drawing attention from all the squatters in the room.

“Food services will be closing down In five minutes,” the soldier called out. “And will resume again at 8 AM tomorrow. If you need help with sleeping arrangements, please see myself or Major Kieran.”

“It’s getting late now, and the soup kitchen is closing soon.” Kieran said to Six as the group began to shuffle, picking up their plates and personal items, looking around as if suddenly woken up. “I hope you stay true to what you said about just wanting to help people. Lord knows I’m trying.”

Six could only nod, watching as Major Kieran stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the windowsill.

“Thank you for your help,” they said, and nearly jumped when ED-E beeped behind them. They’d forgotten it was even there.

“What is your little robot thing, anyway?” Kieran asked, a crease forming on her brow as she looked at it.

“It’s a…” Six began. “It’s ED-E. It’s my friend.”

“Your friend?” Kieran said, straightening up and tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her kerchief behind her ear. “Funny looking friend.”

Six just smiled, nodding and mumbling another thanks to her, and was about to turn around when she caught them gently by the shoulder.

“Hang on,” Major Kieran said, turning them to face her. “I forgot to ask. What’s your name, kid?”

“My name?” Six echoed, blanking a bit before processing the question. “Oh. It’s Six. My name’s Six. I’m a courier.”

“Funny sounding name for a funny courier and his funny friend,” Kieran commented. “Well, if you’re a courier, maybe you can deliver a message for me,” she reached into her pocket, producing four caps.  “Can you tell Julie Farkas at the Old Mormon Fort I want her to come by, sometime?”

She shoved the caps into Six’s hands, and they fumbled them a bit, nodding. “Sure thing,” they replied. “I’ll tell her as soon as I can.” Kieran smiled.

“Thanks, Six,” she said, and then gave him and ED-E a small nod. “And… stay safe out there.”

“Will do,” they said, and after pausing for an awkward heartbeat, they left.

Liz Kieran stood there for a moment after Six had gone, contemplating another cigarette. A funny little courier indeed, she reasoned; but couldn’t be too bad, if he was hanging around with the Followers.

Turning back to the soup kitchen, she nodded to two of her friends, who were watching her a bit tensely from behind the counter.

“It’s all right.” She called out to them. “He was just a courier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually started writing chapter 6 this before this one - I didn't know I wanted to write this scene until I was halfway done writing another one.   
> Hopefully the wait won't be too long again, although I am currently working on a gift fic for a friend, so it may be a couple more weeks. Thanks for sticking with me, if you're following this! It's been a lot of fun so far.


	6. in the dark (& out of harm)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks to Sam, BATM, and Perri for the edit work. Y'all are lovely <3

A relaxing Sarsaparilla after a long day of work was never just that, and Arcade wondered how he hadn’t predicted that he’d stay up with Julie way later than he intended.

Thankfully, she didn’t mention anything about Six for the rest of the night; she’d taken Arcade’s request that she drop it seriously and he’d appreciated it.

It was a situation he’d found himself in before. Back when he’d first joined the Followers, Julie had been his immediate friend – more of her doing than his, but her welcoming and kindness were hardly something to complain about. Every excuse he’d made up, every half-baked lie about his Enclave past, the Plasma Defender that never left his side, and the locked tin he kept inside a hole in his mattress – she knew about all of them, even if she didn’t know why. Julie wasn’t stupid, he knew she saw his secrecy for what it was, but she respected it. She trusted him enough to respect it, and that was more than he could ever ask.

After noticing Julie was doing her best to keep from falling asleep against the wall while they talked, Arcade decided it was time to call it quits. He dragged himself out of her apartment above the surgery room sometime in the early morning, feeling far too awake for someone who needed to be going to sleep right then if he were to be in any shape to get things done the next morning.

The air was cool, and at three in the morning, Freeside had entered a kind of lull that could only fall at such an ungodly hour. The noise that usually carried over the walls of the Old Mormon Fort had dulled considerably, and crickets were the dominant soundtrack to the night.

Because it was so beautiful out – if beauty was the right way to describe it – Arcade found himself tempted by the idea of a walk around Freeside, maybe not too far from the Fort. He felt awake and alert, and it had been a while since he’d been alone in the dark like this.

Freeside’s greatest downfall was its danger outshone its virtue. Arcade loved the stars, he loved the solitude, and he loved the feeling he got when he seemed the only one in the streets. It was like he was living in a whole other world – somewhere he didn’t have to worry, where he didn’t have to be. There were just streetlights. He just was.

Arcade dropped his Followers lab coat off at his own tent before pushing his way through the heavy wood doors of the Fort, careful to shut them properly behind him as he turned to face the empty streets.

It wasn’t that there was an absence of people; locals huddled in broken shop doorways, beside walls, taking shelter under rusted car husks and beside flickering street lights. The streets were empty in their lack of motion, of life; the characters of Freeside were taking pause from their usual struggle for survival to rest. Arcade passed them; his worn boots falling on cracked pavement and setting the beat for his tired meander through the night. The city itself smelled; the deeply ingrained scent of roads that had been baking in the heat all day, smoke from trash can fires, the stink of stray dogs, of stray people.

The benefits for taking this kind of walk, Arcade often found, was that the act of walking through Freeside or other parts of the Mojave on his own and in the dark gave him time to decompress the rest of his high-demand, low-thought lifestyle. There wasn’t anything wrong with what he did – working with the Followers was, at the end of the day, a noble cause, but a noble cause where your end goal was to simply stay alive and help others to stay alive didn’t allow for much else. New Vegas, in that way, was a bizarre juxtaposition of itself; so close to so much excess with the Strip, so deeply entrenched in the poverty of Freeside, and so very immediately and constantly in peril.

The NCR struggled with the locals, and with Caesar, of course. Caesar made his presence known at their doorstep, an intimidating figure given a half-thought when he was only heard of, and not seen. The Strip still shone bright and defiant, ignorant of the chaos brewing below it; ignorant and yet deceitfully so, as if it hadn’t been built on the back of that chaos in the first place.

The Great War had been fought with bombs over a two-hour period. There was an even greater war, being fought forever; with fists and batons, rifles and pulse grenades, robots and dogs. The players came and went, passed on and passed off their legacies, but the fighting never stopped. It was a war that never truly changed.

Arcade’s footsteps brought him in front of the Freeside sign; across from the King’s school, marking the road to the Wrangler and the Silver Rush, dealers in violence and vice… perhaps this is what people came to Freeside for, but the city was so much more than that.

Where did places like Freeside belong, in the face of such never ending violence? Where did addicts and thugs and gamblers come into play while NCR officers slowly took Freeside and the Strip as their own, the Lucky 38 the only thing keeping them from owning it? Where did he, a man whose past lay in dead history, a dying part of war, fit into this?

As much as he stared into the neon lights of the Freeside sign and agonized over it, Arcade didn’t have any answers, and as he stood there he could feel himself growing more and more anxious.

The courier with the number for a name had shaken him ever so slightly. It was always a shock to see reminders of his history in places they didn’t belong, and the piece of long decommissioned Enclave technology that followed him had been a jolt. Its loyalty, either programmed or learned, had made Arcade question Six’s story thoroughly. The courier’d seemed about as good of a liar as Arcade was. The difference between the two of them was that Arcade knew his own story, and could trust it; the courier’s was something else entirely.

 _How did I get from there to here?_ Arcade’s thoughts pulled him back to where he stood. From war to Freeside to the round face of a short courier. Arcade wished vaguely that thoughts of Six would leave him alone – that damn courier and his eyebot, following him wherever he went.

 _Maybe Julie’s right, Arcade. Maybe you do have an interest in him._ He would slap himself, truly, he would, if it’d do him any good.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to find the courier attractive. He absolutely was just that; and he’d seemed gentle, and he’d seemed like he gave a damn; all qualities that Arcade could appreciate in a person, and all things that didn’t necessarily have to mean he yearned for any kind of relationship with him.

Hell, Arcade knew he worked with some of the men in the Followers who he’d give it a shot with if they showed interest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been marginally interested in someone passing through, either. It was the eyebot thing, really – the eyebot, the lies about his injured shoulder, the way he walked with so much purpose but looked at Arcade and Julie with a kind of quiet trust in his eyes Arcade hadn’t seen in a while.

Okay, maybe Six was a different egg. But that was alright.

Arcade didn’t slap himself; instead, he just let out a quiet, irritated noise, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at the Freeside sign, as if it would give him answers for questions he didn’t know how to ask.

“Hey, you alright there?”

Arcade hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him, and he turned his head quickly – but he had no reason to be alarmed: it was just a gang of the Kings, dressed in their Jailhouse Rockers and holding 10mm’s. The speaker had his arms crossed, staring at Arcade with a neutral yet concerned expression.

“Yeah, sorry gentlemen,” Arcade responded quickly, recognizing the one who spoke as Pacer. “Just on my way back to the Fort. Have a good night.”

Pacer shrugged, tilting his head to Arcade for a moment before he and his boys set off towards the Wrangler. Arcade let them go.

It was late, anyway, and he should probably sleep at some point during the night.

 

Arcade had trouble getting up early at the best of times, so sleeping in after being out so late the night before was almost to be expected.  This wasn’t often an issue – someone would usually just come and check on him, and that’d wake him up. That morning, however, it was Julie who came bursting into his tent, louder and livelier than he’d seen her in months.

“You gotta come outside,” she told him eagerly, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into a sitting position before he was even fully awake.

“Hah?” Barely able to form a coherent sentence, Arcade squinted at Julie, who was grabbing clothes out of the storage trunk at the end of his bed and throwing them into his lap.

“We got Med-X.” She said excitedly, slamming his trunk shut. “You gotta come see, too. You’re gonna love this.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Usually he’d be a little bit peeved at being woken so abruptly over Med-X, but this was Julie, and some part of him really didn’t mind seeing her this excited, for once. He pulled on his pants and started to buckle them up, Julie prancing in one place like a racehorse. She had a wide grin on her face that concerned him slightly, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Come ON!” She said as he started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Before Arcade even had a time to finish dressing, Julie was dragging him out the door.

Out into the mid-morning sun, Arcade continued to squint his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, watching the scene unfolding in front of him. Six, holding a crate with Sarsaparilla bottles piled on top, stood in front of a congregation of Followers, looking up at them with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Yeah, there’s about a dozen Sarsaparilla bottles, all filled with clean water.” Six was assuring the group, as each doctor or volunteer took one of the bottles. “I got it all from Lake Mead, so it’s perfectly safe. Not a drop of irradiation. Feel free to take some.”

Six looked up and his eyes met Arcade’s, then travelling down his chest and stomach. As soon as he looked away, Arcade realized that his shirt, which he’d acquired in haste, was still unbuttoned. Arcade felt a sting of discomfort as he realized most of the people gathered there could see his skin quite clearly.

“Sorry,” He explained to the doctors, quickly looking away from Six. “Julie was so excited she forgot about my modesty.” He began to button his shirt up, not looking Six in the face again until he was covered.

“Your courier friend brought us Med-X.” Doctor Zhang explained, motioning to the box Six was holding. “And fresh water, apparently.”

“My friend-?” Arcade said, and Six quickly butted in, “I couldn’t remember Julie’s name at first, so I asked for you.”

Arcade couldn’t see her, but he knew, as sure as the sun would rise each day, that Julie Farkas was probably giving him the _biggest_ grin. Wonderful. _More fodder for her ‘you have a thing for the new guy in town’ theory_.  He rubbed a hand over his face, realizing that he had also forgotten his glasses.

“Is that whole crate Med-X?” Julie asked, and Six nodded.

“And some RadAway. I couldn’t spare any stimpacks, is all. I’m sorry,” He said, but Julie shook her head.

“Six, this is more than we could ask for already. Did someone tell you we needed medical supplies?”

Six nodded. “I overheard two doctors talking about it while I was here yesterday. I… happened to know where I could find some of the things you needed.” Six answered. “It’s my way of saying thanks. If it weren’t for you, Julie, I wouldn’t have been able to talk to Major Kieran at all, and there could have been a lot of casualties.”

“What do you mean by that?” Julie asked him, a spark of interest crossing her face at the mention of Major Kieran.

“Dropping your name is what got me into the soup kitchen,” Six explained. “And through talking to her, I worked out… well, I helped the NCR and the helped the Kings. Good enough?”

Julie made a noise of surprise and glanced at Arcade.

“I’d really appreciate it if you helped me carry these back into one of the supply tents.” Julie said, turning back to Six and motioning to the crate of medical supplies.

 Six just gave her a smile, holding out the crate to give each one of the doctors a bottle of fresh water. He turned to Arcade last, flashing him a smile as he held out the crate with the bottles balanced on it.

“Thanks for the stimpacks, by the way,” Six said as Arcade took the bottle. It was still cold, as if it had been refrigerated since Six took water from the lake. Arcade held it in front of him, condensation on the bottle wetting his palm.

“It’s no problem, really,” Arcade replied, briefly making eye contact with Six before looking away again. “We are here to help.”

Arcade and Six both went quiet for a heartbeat, Six still holding his box of supplies and Arcade wondering if he should excuse himself to go get his glasses.

“Six, the supply tents are just over here,” Julie called, impatiently waiting just outside of their awkward interaction.

“Okay. Coming!” Six said, and Arcade was caught off guard when the courier flashed him a smile before turning and following Julie.

Arcade stood for a moment, eyes still full of sleep and clothes wrinkled from his dressing haste. Six tottered on after Julie, and she slowed her walk to allow him to catch up. Arcade looked briefly to his tent, thinking for a minute he should finish getting dressed and get back to work. Still, as Julie and Six made their way to the supply tents, he felt something tugging him along – and his bare feet picked up the pace, striding swiftly after them to make up for the ground he’d lost.

“Oh, are you coming too, Arcade?” Julie asked when he caught up with them.

“Don’t really have much else to do.” Arcade said, still holding the water Six had given him in front of him. “Not sure how badly we need me to find that Med-X replacement, now, thanks to Six.”

“These won’t last very long, not at the rate we go through them,” Julie pointed out quietly as she pulled back the entrance flap to the supply tent. “Still no luck on the cazador venom sack?”

“Not really,” Arcade replied. “They’re expensive to buy fresh and a pain in the ass to kill. Literally, if you’re not careful while running away.”

Six actually let out a laugh at that, a soft, charming noise that made Arcade stare at him for a few seconds, before looking away once Six caught his gaze.

“If… the Followers need me to, I can bring back supplies as I come across them,” Six offered, his voice quieting as it came down from his laughter. “I go as far as Novac, or sometimes even Goodsprings. And I’m always coming across supplies along the way…”

 A thought flashed across Arcade’s mind – a shred of doubt, wondering for a moment how much truth Six was telling about his travels, and who he got those chems from… a secret Enclave stash that Arcade had forgotten about, a raided bunker?

Arcade almost kicked himself for thinking that, and he found it easier to beat down those thoughts when the courier didn’t have his eyebot with him.

“…That might offset the need a little bit, but I don’t know how much it’ll work as a long-term solution.” Julie said, taking the box from Six and opening one of the properly regulated storage trunks to begin sorting out the chems. “What we really need is a steady supply, but so far, no one has been willing to cut us a deal we can afford. Arcade, come help me store these RadAways.”

Arcade dutifully went to help her, and Six stood back to let the two of them do their job.

“I could still be of service,” he offered again, and Arcade looked over his shoulder to see Six staring at his back. “I’m usually pretty good at talking to people… maybe I could help work something out.”

“Sure would be nice if you could.” Julie said, standing up and stretching a little. “Don’t get too hard on yourself if you can’t, though. You’ve already done us a huge favour already.”

She turned to Six as Arcade locked up the storage trunk, grunting when he bumped his head on one of the crates. Six moved toward him with worry on his face, touching the doctor’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Arcade said, ignoring the smarting of his head and concentrating on Six’s small fingers brushing gently against his shirt. _Huh. That’s nice_.

“You got one of the waters, right, Julie?” Six asked with a light, eager-to-please tone in his voice. Arcade couldn’t help but smile to himself, his hand rubbing at his chin to hide his grin. _It’s kinda nice to hear the kid talk to Julie like that. She’ll appreciate it._

“I did, thank you,” Julie replied. “And so did Arcade. You’re really too good to us.” Six opened his mouth as if to deny it, but Julie shook her head. “Come on. Let’s go back to my room. I might have something to repay you with.”

“You really don’t have to –“ Six replied, but Julie put a hand on his shoulder, gently steering him out of the supply tent. “Can it, kiddo. I just want to show my appreciation.”

Once again, Arcade found himself following behind the two of them, like an awkward third wheel clumping along. He was finally beginning to wake up properly, though, and starting to regret not having grabbed his glasses before he left the tent.  Six kept half a skip in his step to keep up with Julie, and Arcade had to force himself to walk half a pace slower to keep from walking into them. Occasionally, Six and Julie would glance back at Arcade; Six with a shy smile and Julie with a knowing one that Arcade couldn’t quite read.

Julie pushed open the door to the interior of the Old Mormon Fort, holding it open for Six to come inside, her fingertips brushing against Arcade’s arm as he walked past. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled and shook her head, motioning to Six quietly. Arcade shrugged, not quite understanding.

Six walked three steps into the room, then stopped, staring at the surgery table pushed near the back behind separator panelling. Arcade watched as Six looked at the brick walling, the clean, steel surgical table, and the countertop with medical instruments lined up neatly and cleanly, properly labelled, contained, and sanitized.

“We sometimes perform small medical procedures when needed,” Julie explained as Six examined surgical table warily. “We don’t really have the facilities necessary for any kind of large scale operation – if that needs to be done, it’s usually required we send people back to the Boneyard or to the New Vegas Medical Facility, if it’s urgent.”

“What’s the New Vegas Medical Facility?” Six asked, following after Julie as she began to climb the stairs to her apartment. Arcade brought up the rear, his face level with the small of Six’s back, watching the courier’s shirt ride up from being tucked into his belt.

“It’s a Followers-run independent service. They provide more specified and expensive services than we do,” Julie explained, reaching the top of the stairs and making a beeline for her desk in the corner.

Julie’s apartment was little more than a storage room converted with a cot and a desk to be her home and workspace. Julie lived, ate, breathed, and slept the Followers. There was no such thing as separation from her mission and herself – she embodied the Fort, and the Fort was her hard work. She’d taken it over after Arcade had joined, but every inch of success was her pouring her heart and soul into it.

Arcade plunked the cool water-filled Sarsaparilla bottle down on the desk before he fell into his usual spot, straddling Julie’s desk chair letting his chin rest on the back of it. Six stopped in the middle of the room, glancing around to find a place to sit before Julie motioned to her bed. He sat down on it, hooking his ankles together and watching as Julie hopped up to sit on her desk.

“You can take your boots off.” Julie said, and Six nodded gratefully, toeing off his worn leather boots and kicking them against the bedpost. Arcade noticed that Six’s clothes were specked with dried blood, worn through with dirt and sweat.

“You’ve been a curious little addition to the Fort,” Julie said to Six, her eyes glinting a little as she put the bottle of water to her lips. “Seems like we can’t get rid of you – right, Arcade?”

Arcade, half asleep with his chin moulded into the back of the chair, looked up quickly. He made eye contact with Six briefly, watching as the other man wiggled his toes in his socks. Six had pulled his legs up onto the bed and now sat cross legged, looking between Julie and Arcade with big eyes.

“It’s a nice place to be,” Six responded quietly, before Arcade had a chance to speak. “I had never dealt with the Followers up until I got to Vegas, and I feel… pretty safe here, actually.”

Julie looked a bit stunned for a moment, and then lit up, shooting Arcade a grin. Arcade couldn’t blame her; safety was important to her, especially in New Vegas.

“Besides, I had to come back here anyway,” Six said, his eyes settling on Julie’s. “I was asked to deliver a message.”

That got Julie’s attention. “From the Kings?” She asked, reaching over and taking Arcade’s water from him. She took a sip, then handed it back to him, and Arcade saw Six’s mouth turn ever so slightly upwards.

“No,” he replied. “It’s from Liz.”

Julie looked at Six, and Six looked right back at her; his mouth still a half-smile, gentle, knowing. Arcade just looked between the two of them, the bottle of water pressed against his lips, not taking a drink just yet until the message was relayed.

“She wanted me to tell you that you should come by, sometime,” he continued. “I assume she meant the soup kitchen. Wherever she meant, she wants to see you.”

“Probably the soup kitchen,” Julie added, although her voice suggested that she knew her speculation was unnecessary.

“Most likely,” Six agreed. “Liz… she said she doesn’t like the Fort much. Said it was too easy to want to stay here.”

Arcade hadn’t seen Julie smile like that in a long time. She seemed to be doing a lot of that, today, especially because of the little courier sitting with his legs crossed on her bed.

 _Thank you_. Arcade looked at Six, who was too busy staring at Julie to notice. _You may lie, and you have an eyebot, but you’re doing something around Freeside. I don’t know what, but it’s a good thing_.

“That’s… sweet, in a bit of a backhanded way,” Julie replied.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it maliciously,” Six said. “And I kind of understand what she meant. It’s busy here, but you feel like you’re going to be okay while you’re within these walls.”

Julie just went on smiling, and Arcade felt something inside him itch with a touch of bitterness. It would be easy for someone like Six or Liz to say those things about the Fort…. Not having to deal with their lack of funding, lack of supplies, their constant battle to try and keep their services running despite everything they faced….

 _Oh, stop it you_ , he chastised himself. _The Old Mormon Fort is a relative heaven compared to the rest of the wastes._

 “If I can drag Arcade kicking and screaming from his research long enough to hold down the Fort for me, I’ll go visit her,” Julie replied, and Arcade was ripped from his inward bitterness.

“Beg your pardon?” If Julie’s sudden remark hadn’t been enough to pull him out of his inner complaining, the way Six laughed at Arcade’s reaction was. Six beamed, and Arcade ignored the way the courier’s eyes lit up at their banter. It was a good kind of light.

“Every time I try to tell you to come out and be a doctor – oh, don’t give me that look – all you do is bitch and moan about not being a people person.”

“I’m not a people person!”

“Six, do you think Arcade is a people person?”

Six almost immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not being drawn into this. I charge extra to fight on anyone’s side.”

“He doesn’t even know me, Julie,” Arcade pointed out. “Don’t make the poor boy sit through you harassing me when both you and I know the way I operate isn’t a problem in the slightest.”

If either Arcade or Julie had been looking, they might’ve seen the way Six’s face froze for half a second, the way the courier’s smile faded just a touch when Arcade called him a boy.

“You know, even if you’re not a people person, you can still enjoy being around other people,” Julie pointed out. “You like me just fine. What’s wrong with meeting someone else every once in a while?”

“I do meet new people.”

“Like who?”

“Six is right here!”

“Oh, he doesn’t count, he came to you.”

“I’m still not a part of this,” Six muttered quietly, although there was a tone of joking in his voice.

“He came to see the Followers, Julie,” Arcade groaned. “Look. Let’s not. You can give me crap for sitting at my workbench all day later. Didn’t you invite Six back here because you had something to give him for how he’s helped us?”

“Oh, right,” Julie said, turning back to Six. “Want a free doctor? He’s kind of grouchy and slow in the mornings, but he’s still worth it for the medicinal skills.”

“ _Julie_!”

“Alright, alright!” Julie laughed. “I’ll go get it.”

As she got off the desk to walk over to her ice box, Arcade gave Six an exasperated look. Six looked a bit pensive, his gaze flicking from Julie to Arcade.

“You could come with me, if you want,” he offered suddenly. Arcade was taken aback.

“Beg pardon?”

“I mean… if you wanted a change of scenery,” Six continued. “Next time I leave town, you’re welcome to come with me. I could use the help of a doctor along the way.”

“I’m really not a great travel companion-“

“You could keep any cazadore body parts we happen to collect,” Six offered, and Julie let out another laugh.

It was tempting in a strange way. On one hand, the idea of being able to see more of the courier and that eyebot of his presented a very interesting opportunity; on the other, that interesting opportunity was enough reason in and of itself to turn down Six’s offer.

And it worried him that he was entertaining the idea; it genuinely shook him to think that a couple goofy smiles and some kindness were all it took to make him contemplate actually taking up this offer. He tried to steel himself, to call forth his caution from when he first met Six, but it was hard to do so. Travelling with him, even for a short time, sounded _nice._

“Thanks, but I don’t really have a good reason to,” Arcade said finally, as Julie turned away from her shelf, holding something up in her hand and feeling victorious.

“Found it!” She said, dumping the hunk of metal into Six’s lap. Six let out a yelp.

“Julie, this is – “

“I know exactly what it is, and none of us here are ever going to use it. It was just gathering dust up here.”

“But where did you find it?” Six said, holding the bulky object up in both hands. Arcade finally got a good look at it, and immediately recognized it as a Stealth Boy.

“It was on a man we treated here for a few weeks before he passed,” Julie replied. “We buried his personal items with him, but things like this we don’t usually leave in graves for people to just dig up. I was going to try and see if I could sell it, but I get the feeling you’d probably have more use for it.”

“But… you could actually use this money…” Six protested weakly, turning it over in his hands.

“Yeah, we could, but you just gave us more than it’s worth in Med-X and RadAway,” Julie replied. “Take it, Six, or I’ll throw it after you when you leave.”

Six’s heart didn’t really seem in his protests, so he sheepishly let the Stealth Boy fall back into his lap, looking embarrassed. Arcade let his chin rest on the back of his chair, watching as the younger man fiddled with the contraption. His fingers were small, albeit tough and dirty looking; his nails were blunt and bitten down, and they handled the Stealth Boy with precise care that seemed at once cautious and experienced.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your research, then, if you’re not about to head out into the wild wasteland with our friend to collect venom sacks?” Julie asked him, clipping him lightly on the shoulder with her palm.

Arcade squinted back at her irritably, but sighed, sitting up properly and grabbing his water to down the rest of it.

“I should and I will,” he replied. “But I need to go get my glasses first and get properly dressed. Let’s not drag me half-naked out of my tent next time something exciting happens, alright?”

“I’m sure Six didn’t mind,” Julie replied with a joking smile, but Arcade shot her a glare that said ‘end this’.

“I’ll see you around, Arcade,” Six said, his voice suddenly softer than it had been during their entire conversation. Arcade stood quietly, looking over at the courier and letting their eyes meet briefly; for the second time since they’d met, Arcade Gannon wondered if Six’s eyes really were that vibrant, that green.

“See you around,” he echoed, not daring to look at Julie, for fear of what she might think. With that, he left, bare feet padding down the stairs to the surgery room, where he opened the door that led back outside to the interior of the Fort. Before the door closed behind him, he heard Julie saying something upstairs, and Six giving another clear, musical laugh, a sound that seemed to pick up the breeze that blew across the Fort and kicked up dust at Arcade’s heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And over a month later, this little gay project keeps chugging along. Choo choo.  
> I feel like I say this every time I update, but - once again, I'm entering hell month (end of the semester, prepping for a con in April, taking on various other fic projects because I love sucking my own dick and being dead) so I have no clue when I'm updating. It's kinda just a force myself to bot up New Vegas and talk to Arcade for long enough to make me miss him and want to write more, sort of thing.  
> I think I've mentioned this before but I do know where I'm going with this (I have large portions of future chapters + the ending written, so!) it's just a matter of getting it done.  
> Now I'm just rambling. Chapter title brought to you by my revitalized emo phase.


	7. you can run away with me (anytime you want)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sam and BATM for beta work!

“ _Mojave, mo’ problems, am I right?_ ”

Arcade threw his hand up over his eyes, the dusty interior of the tent too harsh this early in the morning. Sunlight pierced through the crack in the tent flap, and the little radio with a broken dial played on next to his cot. It was stuck at a quiet volume, perfect for listening to before bed. He hadn’t realized he’d left it on the night before. He must have fallen asleep sometime around midnight, Johnny Guitar the last thing he remembered hearing before he’d drifted off into dreams he couldn’t recall.

In his head, he counted down quietly, waiting for Mr. New Vegas to finish his radio talk and begin the next song before Arcade shut the thing off, aware of the moment of silence before the sounds from outside came pouring in.

The past six days hadn’t been much different than most other weeks in Freeside, but they felt rushed and Arcade felt dazed. He wished he could lie to himself and say that the courier hadn’t been on his mind at all, that he had gone back to work and forgotten about him again like he’d done the first time – but he hadn’t. He hadn’t, and he’d been leaving his radio on almost nightly, trying to fill his head with tinny ballads instead of wondering about the courier. His interest in Six had expanded beyond explanations of why the courier had an eyebot or where he’d been injured before showing up on Freeside’s doorstep; Arcade’s thoughts drifted to perhaps defending why he had lied, justifying his story; maybe he had Enclave roots, too, just trying to hide in plain sight, not much unlike Arcade himself.

He was careful not to dwell too long on this romantic image of Six, keeping it more for his own comfort and self-indulgence than anything else. He knew that the people you idealized were never what you wanted them to be. No, he wasn’t that foolish – but still.

Arcade sat up in his cot, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight and shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts; a somewhat pointless exercise, but a useful one if you believed hard enough. The sheets pooled around his waist, and he reached over to his side table to grab his glasses. Kicking his sheets off, he swung his legs out of bed and walked quietly to the locker at the foot of it to get dressed.

He was in the middle of doing up his pants when the flaps to his tent opened, and the morning sun cutting a line through the middle of his tent. He turned around, squinting against the bright light to see who it was.

“You could have announced you were coming in before you opened the tent, Danny,” he told the guard, zipping himself up and sighing, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He seemed to be finding himself half-naked in front of a lot of people recently. Danny just grinned at him, pulling her bandanna down off her face and wiping the palms of her hands on her pants.

“Schiff is in tent two if you have a minute,” she announced. Before he could remind her that he was a researcher, she butted in again “And he asked for you specifically. Says you’re the most attractive doctor round here – oh, but I’m not supposed to let you know that.” She shot him a grin. Arcade sighed.

“Well, you sure do know how to boost an old man’s ego,” he replied, bending down to pick up his shirt and pull it on.

“Oh, come on, you’re not that old,” Danny said. “But maybe I should tell him to look somewhere else for cute doctors, if you’re seeing that courier Julie keeps talking about.”

Hm. Well, that sure got his attention.

“I don’t know what Julie’s been saying about Six – or me – but I can assure you it’s not true,” he said firmly, buttoning up his shirt. “He’s just become a good friend.”

“That all?” Danny asked curiously. “Thought the whole reason why he kept coming back was because of you. It was amazing that you didn’t scare him off the first time when he showed up.”

“I’m hardly terrifying.” Arcade said dryly. “You’d be more threatened by a bloatfly egg than by someone like me.”

“Yeah, I know, I was talking more about your weird, lonely scientist schtick.”

“Researcher, Danny.”

“Researcher. Whatever. Anyway, your courier hasn’t been around in a while, but Schiff is still waiting and he thinks you’re easy on the eyes, so…”

“I’m not interested, but I think he gets that.” Arcade said, reaching down to pick his lab coat up off his cot and shrug it on. “We get along quite well. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Danny replied, flashing Arcade a goofy grin. “Go see him. He’ll be glad you’re up.”

Arcade just gave her a half-smile, waiting for her to leave his tent before he grabbed his Plasma Defender and strapped it to his side, under his coat. He tucked a stray pencil behind his ear – feeling a lot better with it there, a lot more like he knew what he was doing – and stepped out to face the day.

The Fort was a bit of a buzz, and Arcade ducked around a group of doctors helping a hungover gambler who was sitting dejectedly on the ground, his head in his hands. Poor bastard, Arcade thought to himself as he walked away. He wasn’t sure if he found the doctors or the gambler more relatable, in all honesty.

Arcade made a short detour before making his way to tent two; he dropped by Julie’s office to grab a clipboard from her and one of those treatment forms she insisted they had to keep up on. Some of the other doctors grumbled about useless paperwork, but the truth is relative to a lot of people they didn’t have to do much – just tried to keep tabs on who was coming through, and why, and what supplies they were using up. Basic enough stuff that Arcade really didn’t have a problem doing it.

“Hey, Julie, it’s me,” Arcade called, clumping up the stairs to her room and office. “Just picking something up before I go deal with Schiff.”

No answer. That was weird. He stopped about halfway up the stairs, pausing to listen.

See, nothing _felt_ off, as weird as that may sound. He hadn’t seen her around the Fort, and no one had told him that she’d left, but maybe she was just out – totally possible, and not completely unusual.

But her boots had been by the door when he’d came in, and walking around Freeside barefoot was a bit unusual.

_Oh, she’s probably just asleep_ , Arcade thought, relaxing once logic kicked in. That would make a lot of sense. Julie didn’t often sleep in, but people burnt out. Things in general burnt out. He couldn’t hold it against her.

_I’ll just sneak in and grab the clipboard and go_ , he decided, thinking it probably wouldn’t take him ten seconds and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been in the same room while Julie slept before. They’d spent enough nights up talking together that he’d crashed in her bed more than once, waking up drooling on her pillow right before she pushed him off the bed and told him to go brush his teeth, because he stank.

He slipped up the stairs as quietly as he could, nearly tripping over Julie’s boots at the top of them and silently cursing her for leaving them there.

_But wait, Julie left her boots downstairs_ -

Arcade glanced quickly at the bed and half jumped, feeling himself blushing even though Julie was asleep. _Huh. That sure is Julie Farkas and Liz Kieran wrapped up in each other._

Even if Julie was comfortable with Arcade, he didn’t know Liz nearly well enough to gauge her comfort level. As quickly and quietly as he could, he pulled open one of her desk drawers and grabbed what he came for, tiptoeing comically down the stairs and slipping back outside.

_That… explain a lot_ , he thought to himself, checking to make sure he hadn’t left his pencil behind anywhere. Maybe Six’s presence and willing-to-help attitude hadn’t been the only thing bringing Julie some peace and comfort, after all.

He should probably let her know that he ‘caught’ her though, Arcade decided, his heart sinking a little as he felt guilty. Even though she realistically had nothing to hide from him, Julie was his friend and he didn’t like the thought that he’d intruded on her privacy, intentionally or not.

_I’ll tell her later_ , he decided, running his finger across the back of the clipboard, feeling the places where others had doodled on it in spare moments or boredom. He half wanted to respect the fact that she hadn’t outright told him she was seeing anybody, but he didn’t feel good not letting her know he’d discovered her secret.

There was nothing to be done about it now, though. He’d confront Julie later. He tucked the clipboard under his arm, walking purposefully towards tent two to deal with Geoffrey Schiff’s problem.

Arcade was eager to get inside – it was already getting uncomfortably hot, even if it wasn’t midday yet. The guards posted at the door to the Fort were leaning back in their chairs, shirts unbuttoned and caravan shotguns balanced across their lap, fanning themselves with magazines – titles like _Lad’s Life_ and _Meeting People_ flapping uselessly against the sun. Arcade passed doctor Zhang and gave him a bit of a smile; the older man seemed more than a little overheated, grimacing at Arcade as he walked past with sweat beading down his forehead.

“Sorry for the wait – what can I do for you?” Arcade said as he pushed his way into tent two, flaps shutting behind him and closing them both off from the heat outside.

Geoffrey Schiff had lived in the Mojave area his whole life, working as a farmhand on a brahmin ranch in the outer Vegas area until six months ago, when Fiend activity forced him inside the walls to make a living running errands for a shop owner. He was a man of thirty, with russet brown skin and tired dark eyes and hair tied back in a short ponytail behind him. He sat on one of the stiff metal chairs pushed up by the wall of the tent, his hands resting on a bandaged leg.

“Nice to see you again, Arcade,” Geoffrey said, one half of his mouth twisting up to smile at Arcade. “I hate to come in and be a bother, seeing as you folks are always so busy all the time, but I went and got myself stung by a cazador a couple days ago while on my way to Novac for supplies. I patched myself up alright but the wound still looks pretty nasty and I figured I should get it look at, least I lose my leg.”

“Well, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you keep It,” Arcade said with a gentle fondness to his voice. While the older man hadn’t come by for treatment very often before he lost his place on the farm, he seemed to be more cautious now, seeking medical attention instead of taking care of things himself. He usually requested Arcade, too, and Arcade was too weak and too awkward to turn him down, because Geoffrey seemed more comfortable with Arcade’s quiet hands and objection to eye contact.

Geoffrey rolled up his pant leg for Arcade, and Arcade knelt down beside him to take a look at him, his hands gentle and quiet as he worked.

“Heard it’s been busy around the Old Fort recently, has it?” Geoffrey asked, eyeing Arcade’s hands on his injury with caution but not distrust. Arcade nodded with a hum.

“Yeah, Julie’s been busting her ass to get some of the help we need, and there’s been a few new faces coming and going, too. Bizarre stuff,” he said. “Seems like we’ve been seeing a lot of that, recently. Like, more than usual for Vegas.”

Geoffrey hummed.

“You’re not the only ones. I mean, new people aren’t really anything special, like you said,” the older man said. “But there’s been some talk of funny people going around all over.”

“What kind of funny? Geckoes in suits and ties?”

“Nah, that’s just the Tops on any old day,” Geoffrey said, and Arcade couldn’t help but laugh. “But the Strip, man, the Strip’s had some funny shit going down. You’ve heard about right, right?”

“No, can’t say I have.” Arcade said, straightening up and going to grab a couple fresh bandages and a stimpack.

Geoffrey grinned.

“Love being the first one to break the big news,” he said to Arcade. “So you’re saying you really haven’t heard any of the buzz from the Strip recently?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful. You see someone – courier, or somethin’ – got inside the Lucky 38.” Geoffrey continued, his eyes lighting up a little bit.

Arcade’s hands suddenly seemed to be having trouble gripping what he was going for, and he played an awkward game of crane with the stimpacks for a few seconds.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asked, looking up far too quickly to even pretend he wasn’t interested in what Geoffrey had to say.

Geoffrey just smiled, only one corner of his mouth turning up but both his eyebrows raising.

“Someone got inside – no, was let inside, by Mr. House himself – the Lucky 38.” He said, speaking clearer.

“Oh… I see.” Arcade said, still not quite sure what to say. “And you said they were… a courier?”

“Yup, that’s what everyone’s been saying. Some tiny little thing, wearing so much armour he’s more metal than man. Apparently some drunks have also said he had some sort of funny, flying robot with him, and we didn’t believe ‘em until a nice NCR officer said the same thing.”

“I see,” Arcade said again, wondering if Geoffrey could tell how unsettled he was and hoping his award-winning acting skills could get him through this troubling moment.

He didn’t even know if he had any business being this surprised. Arcade bent down next to Geoffrey’s leg again and jabbed the needle of the stimpacks into it, pushing down on the trigger with his thumb. It was so like Six to get into something like that; him and his bad lying skills and his stupid fucking eyebot, his nervous hopping around mystery and earnest desire to help.

Well, that was assuming it was Six, but of course – it had to be. What other courier ran around in full armour with a flying robot trailing behind him?

“Here,” Arcade said, forcing himself to concentrate on his patient. “I’m just going to bandage you up and then I’ll send you off with some Med-X to help with the pain, alright? It should keep the swelling down, too.”

“Sounds good,” Geoffrey said, and then he paused. “You know what the funniest thing is, though?”

“What’s that?” Arcade said, beginning to wrap the bandage around Geoffrey’s wound.

“Everyone who saw this courier all said the same thing about him – he was small and quiet and had funky-lookin’ hair and all that, but he also stood out all weird. Kinda moved like a coyote, did more talking than anything else, but he was carrying a gun to back it up for sure. And I coulda sworn I saw someone who fit that description perfectly hanging around the Old Fort when I got here.”

Arcade didn’t reply at first, just did his best to concentrate on his big, awkward hands.

“Yeah?” he finally replied after a little bit, sure he sounded pathetic and underwhelming.

“Yeah, he was lookin’ for Julie.” Geoffrey said, nodding thoughtfully as Arcade finished up. “You sure are busy around here, aren’t you?”

“…I guess we are,” Arcade replied, still quiet. “I’ll… go get you that Med-X, alright? You wait here.”

\--

Arcade sent Schiff away with a leg that he claimed felt ‘better than ever’ and a couple days’ worth of Med-X, which was far less than he probably needed but all they could supply. Arcade sighed, leaning against the wall of the Fort as he saw the older man off, feeling a sort of empty accomplishment that came with being a doctor at the Fort. This is why he stuck to his research.

It was hot as hell out, now, and Arcade figured if he could find Julie, Six might still be with her. If Geoffrey was right, of course, and the courier he’d seen hanging around the Fort happened to be the same courier who was seen going into the Lucky 38, and that was assuming that the same courier had been Six –

Well, of course it was fuckin’ Six. The minute Arcade stepped ten feet back into the Fort, he could see him, standing next to Julie in front of some of the supply tents.

Julie was smiling bigger than he’d ever seen her smile; her face was washed with relief as she stood with her hands on Six’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Arcade heard her telling the courier. “It does mean a lot to us.”

“What’s going on?” He asked curiously, stepping up beside them and keeping his hands awkwardly tucked behind his back, not quite sure what to do with his body. He gave Six a shy smile, letting his eyes linger for a little bit before looking away, feeling strangely excited to have the courier back.

It hit him then how long it had been since he’d last seen Six this close; he half-wondered if rumours about him going into the Lucky 38 had been so jarring because of the fact it was Six, _his_ courier, who had gone in – no, no, that couldn’t be right, anyone going into the Lucky 38 would have been an event.

But it had felt different when he’d learned it might have been Six. It felt adventurous and fascinating and suddenly Arcade was back to wondering where the courier had been, what he had been, what he was hiding behind bad lies and battle injuries. Arcade hated how romantic he felt, stumbling after this courier as if he were a cure to be understood, something beautiful, something new.

He certainly didn’t look brand new. His face was dirty, his grin tired, and his fringe fell against his forehead as turned to look at Arcade, sweaty and sticky and disgusting.

“I managed to talk some sense into this one,” he said, jabbing his thumb at Julie, who just shook her head.

“I still can’t believe it, you know. The Garrets, of all people!”

“They respect you more than you respect them,” Six shot back with another half-smile. “It probably helped me convince them to supply you.”

“The Garrets are supplying us….?” Arcade asked, and Six just nodded, hooking his thumbs in the top of his pants, looking mighty pleased with himself in his smart combat regalia.

“I promised you two I’d figure something out about your stocking problem, so I started asaking around Freeside,” he explained. “Mick and Ralph couldn’t do much for me, but the Garrets were open to bargaining. It isn’t a perfect deal, but they seemed... pretty happy to partner with the Followers,” Six paused. “I mean, I keep walking around this place and half the people say the Followers are wonderful if misguided folk, so someone had to be willing to help you out even a little.”

“Misguided folk, are we?” Arcade said dryly, and Julie fake-swatted at him.

“Oh, go to hell,” she scolded him. “We get it. I know it isn’t perfect, but it’s something. It’s the best we’ve got. And if it means we can help people, well – so be it. I don’t like to make sacrifices but some things are more important than my morality.”

“Jeez, Julie, I’ve never heard you talk like that,” Arcade replied, wondering vaguely if Liz being around had put her in a good enough mood to agree to partner with the Garrets. “So does this mean we’re allowed to drink a shot or two every once in a while even if we’re with the Followers?”

“Arcade!”

“Kidding,” he said, sighing and putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean, mostly.”

Julie just gave him a helpless look, and Six let out a laugh. Arcade’s alcohol-less woes were put on hold for a moment as he listened to them laugh, saw their tired, dirty face light up for a minute, and he was momentarily reminded of how some Old World authors would describe people as angels, despite them having no similarities to true angels.

“Maybe if you can sneak away for a bit, I’ll buy you a Nuka.” Six told Arcade, still grinning at him brilliantly and standing with such comfortable ease it made Arcade feel all warm inside.

“No thanks - not a big fan of the radiation.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Arcade, we live in a wasteland. A little radiation never killed anyone.”

“Really?”

“Okay, so maybe it has. I’ll buy you a Sarsparilla.”

“Thank you, Six, I appreciate it.”

Julie was shaking her head, smiling in her ‘oh, Arcade’ way, and even his sass couldn’t dissuade Six from his beaming smile. It felt so comfortable to have him back there.

“Are you going somewhere?” Arcade added after a brief pause, feeling as though he naturally wanted the conversation to keep going. He gestured to the duffel back on Six’s back, and Six blinked for a minute before he seemed to grasp why Arcade was asking.

“Oh, yeah, actually,” he said, then took a pause. “I was just stopping by on my way out to finalize things with Julie about the Garrets, and I was actually hoping you’d be around. I need some Med-X and bandages, if you have any you could spare to sell.”

“No, not for you,” Julie said, and when Six looked at her quizzically, she corrected herself. “I mean you don’t have to pay. At all. We do have some in the supply tent – Arcade can take you to check – and they’re all yours if you need them.”

“Julie,” Six began, his eyes going wide. Julie just shook her head.

“No, don’t refuse it. Six, you’ve been very good to us. Unprecedentedly good,” she said. “We could not ask from anyone what you have done without any prompting. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Six looked like he was going to turn bright red, and Arcade chose to save him by grabbing him by the arm and starting to pull him towards the supplies tent. His grip was firm but gentle, though, and it struck him how thin Six’s arms were.

“Come on, then,” Arcade said, and Six just turned his head to Julie and tried to motion to her that he really, really, didn’t deserve their kindness, but she just laughed.

“Good, Arcade. Go give him his just desserts for being such a good guy,” she said, and Arcade sighed, shaking his head as he pushed open the flap to the tent, leading Six inside and finally letting his hand drop from the courier’s arm.

And then they were alone. Six straightened himself out, brushing his arm with an embarrassed look on his face, unsure of what to do. Arcade watched him for a moment, but then he kept doing that thing where he kept his hands rested on his hips or rubbing at his thighs – looking unnatural and out of place, as if painfully aware of how he was holding himself. It was kind of endearing, and Arcade forced himself to turn away, digging into their supply boxes to find what he’d asked for.

Arcade was doing his best to bite back questions and remarks, pretending he didn’t notice the abrasions on Six’s new armour, torn between feeling close enough to call him by name and distant enough from the courier that the lovely man was still a mystery.

_A mailman walks into town with a funny-looking robot and winds up inside the Lucky 38_ , Arcade thinks to himself. _And you want to kiss and ask why. What the hell’s the Mojave coming to?_

“I’m heading out of town for a few days,” Six explained, and Arcade could feel the courier’s eyes on his back as he searched, bent over, his eyes passing across the bandages three or four times before he finally registered what he was seeing. “I wanted to stock up before I left, case I ran in to those, uh, gangs, again.”

Ah, yes. The Jackal gang members, desperate and displaced by the NCR, who Six had claimed given him a nasty shoulder injury that saw him running all the way to Vegas for help.

“Didn’t you say they hit you farther south? Are you going that far?” Arcade wondered how long a ‘few days’ would really be. If Six had really been inside the Lucky 38, was he running an errand for Mr. House? One that his Securitrons couldn’t – but a human courier could?

“Maybe.” Six said, scratching his chin. “Got something I need to take care of down in Novac, could be dangerous, too. Just wanted to play it safe.”

Six seemed distant and distracted – oh, there you go, Arcade, acting like you know him – so Arcade didn’t press the issue. He did, however, press the bandages and Med-X into his hand, the action forcing Six to turn his gaze toward the doctor.

“You ever been to Novac?” Six asked, taking Arcade completely by surprise. “Or I guess, out of the Vegas walls. Wait, that’s silly of me. You probably weren’t born here.”

“No, no I wasn’t,” Arcade replied vaguely, looking at Six but not _at_ him, mentally reconstructing the seams on his under armour, lining them all up across his body – perfect and uniform. “I have family in Novac. Uh, family friends.”

“Oh,” Six said, sounding surprised, and Arcade swallowed quietly. “Did… did you want to come with me, then? Say hi?”

It was so forced and sudden it caught Arcade off guard for the second time during their conversation, and he scrambled to recover himself, stumbling over his reply.

“Well, I mean – “ he began, his fingers twiddling nervously at his sides. “I don’t think I can. I’m much more useful here.” He paused, and before Six could answer, he continued. “You don’t need to be dragging me around. I’m hardly useful.”

“That’s not true,” Six said, their voice starting out robust and swelling down to a faint wind. “I mean, you’re needed around here. Julie seems to be really comforted by you.”

“Oh…” Arcade said, half-gearing up for a snarky reply, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when he could see the way Six was looking at him. “Thanks, I guess. But I guess I’m still probably more useful here.”

Six just gave him an awkward smile, shrugging.

“Even if I said please?”

“Even… even if you say please.”

There was another pause, and finally Six turned, Med-X and bandages still in his hands. “I guess I’ll have to come back to Vegas, then.”

It gave Arcade a weird feeling, hearing Six say that, and it made him feel even better when Six continued on. “I have things I care about here. Lots of things. Freeside is important.

“You be careful, okay?” Arcade said suddenly. He needed to tell Six this, he needed to convey what he was feeling. “You’ve done a… really swell job of helping the Followers, and we’d hate to see anything bad happen to you.” He was so stupid, so blunt, so bad at saying what he meant when he was around Six. He fumbled just as much as Six did, but Six had a way of talking that may not have been clever, but it made you feel things. Arcade was sure feeling a whole lot right now. _Really in deep with this one, aren’t we_ , he thinks, his fingers twirling his pencil in one hand as he looked away from the courier.

“I will be.” Six said softly, looking back towards the door once more. “I think I just need to put some Mojave between me and the Strip for a while. It’s been getting to me recently. Besides - I owe someone a debt, and I hate leaving those unpaid.” Six looked back at Arcade, and flashed him one half-smile before he turned again, this time with finality.

“I’ll see you soon, Arcade.”

Arcade hated watching him go like that. Unpaid debts? Distance between him and the Strip? Okay, that one he could understand, but Six seemed hardly a gambler. He was so much, all wrapped up in a little ball of sudden decisions and bizarre robots. _Oh, to hell with it_ , Arcade thought miserably, wondering if he should just go with Six anyway.

But by the time he managed to wrap his head around the idea, Six was gone, and he was left in the supply tent with dusty old boxes and a half-chewed pencil.

-

It was weird, missing someone that had barely been around to begin with.

Well, it was hardly like Six was really gone. Novac wasn’t very far from here, and no one in the Freeside who had even heard mention of the Courier With the Weird Robot that Came Out of the Lucky 38 would let his legend die.

Arcade supposed it made sense. It wasn’t bad news, and it wasn’t good news, either, which meant it couldn’t be turned into bad news. It was just news, it was just different; it was sparks to dried Mojave grass and it set Freeside aflame with _something._ Even with Six physically gone, Freeside had dug its claws into him, keeping him there as a beacon of hope, of somethingness. Something new. That was important to people.

Arcade spent a lot of time during the next five days caught up over how much he missed the almost-presence Six had been. It wasn’t like the courier ever spent a ton of time around the Old Fort; hell, there’d been bigger gaps between the times they’d seen each other when Six was actually in Freeside, and half of that time Arcade had virtually no way of knowing if Six was still around or not. But the confirmation that he had left, and that Arcade had no idea how long he’d be gone except for a vague ‘few days’, made him overwhelmingly unhappy in a way he really didn’t appreciate.

Feeling like this was juvenile, sure, but he wasn’t immature enough to believe he was above it. It was just _inconvenient._

The worst part was that it wasn’t even his irritatingly inconvenient feelings that bothered him all that much. It was just that, now, as he was starting to come to terms with them, Six was fucking _gone_. Left. Gone on a trip, a trip he’d invited Arcade to follow him on, and Arcade had said no.

And then there was the radio. The god damn radio, and if Arcade knew where to find Mr. New Vegas, he’d march right up to him and have a word or two or twelve with the bastard about _Johnny Guitar_. And Blue Moon, and Mad About the Boy, and Love Me As Though There Were No Tomorrow –

(Well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t drop everything he was doing every time they came on the radio, turn it up, hide his burning face in shame as if there were anyone around to see him acting this way. He hummed them to himself as he walked through Freeside at night, and he’d been doing that a lot more often, because he was restless at night and Freeside felt like it was a missing a chunk of something. He hated feeling like this, half restless and half exhausted – he hated feeling like he’d been so close to something brilliant and now he had to wait for that to be back again.)

Well, he was waking up later and later, and Julie was letting him because she was sleeping in, too. By the time Six had been five days gone, Arcade was sleeping in till noon, waking up in the middle of a radio special interviewing No-Bark about ghouls in rockets over Novac, and it took Arcade a minute to realize he really was awake and not just dreaming.

“God,” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, staring down at his lap for a couple seconds before gathering enough resolve to turn off his radio.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Julie’s voice had an unmistakeable smugness to it that was neither haughty nor arrogant; and the grin she wore was enough to make him smile back, albeit squinting and a little sleepy.

“What, you probably barely just woke up, too,” Arcade grumbled, and she shook her head.

“Nah, I was up when the mailman came by this morning,” she replied, a barely concealed giggle in her voice. Arcade squinted a little harder, as if that was enough to help him figure out why she was laughing.

“The… mailman?”

“Arcade, Six was here,” Julie said, and he stopped squinting to just stare at her with a blank look on his face.

“And you didn’t wake me?” He said, immediately slapping himself mentally for giving that much away. Julie grinned even bigger.

“No, but I am now. He came back, silly.”

“Oh, shit, okay,” Arcade said, grabbing his glasses and putting them on, immediately standing up and grabbing the nearest clean-looking clothes he could, hands moving far too slow while buttoning his shirt. Julie just laughed, slipping back out of the tent and leaving him to his chaos.

He took a couple seconds before leaving his tent to straighten himself out, checking to make sure he didn’t look like too much of an embarrassing mess. It hit him as he was stepping out into the sunlight that he had no idea _where_ in the Old Fort Six would be, but that turned out to be a non-issue because Six was barely four meters away from the front of Arcade’s tent.

Well. Convenient.

He wasn’t alone, either. Six was crouching in the dirt, both hands rubbing and petting at a big dog with an exposed brain and what looked like half a body of prosthetics. Six stood when he saw Arcade coming, and the dog flopped a big front paw onto the toe of his boot, looking up at the courier with sad eyes, as if asking for more attention.

“Just exactly how many robots do you have?” Arcade said, mentally high fiving himself for such a smooth introduction, and the grin Six gave him was enough of a reward on its own.

“I don’t have any of them. They all just kind of wind up with me,” Six said, shrugging. “ED-E’s outside again, like you asked, but you never said nothing about a mutt.”

Arcade peered a little closer at the animal, and it panted quietly, eyeing Arcade almost nervously as its tail slowed its wagging.

“Isn’t that the King’s dog?” Arcade asked, and the creature whined, lowering itself to the floor and looking up at him, flicking its ears.

“Yup!” Six said cheerfully. “That’s Rex.”

The animal.... robot… animal-robot wagged its tail hesitantly when Six said its name, but it continued to stare at Arcade, cautious gaze never leaving his face as it licked its lips.

“Is he okay?” Arcade said, squatting down in front of Rex and holding out his hand, whistling softly.

“Well,” Six said, then paused. “Not exactly. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh,” Arcade said, disappointed when Rex didn’t come over. “Does he, uh… need to be housebroken?”

Six just laughed. “No, no, he doesn’t actually have to pee, as far as I can tell. The whole robot dog thing, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Convenient.”

“Yeah. But what’s not so convenient is the fact that he may need some replacement parts.”

“Oh,” Arcade said, standing back up. “What? A leg or something?”

“Try a brain.”

“Hm,” Arcade’s mouth twitched, and he stared at Six quietly, whose face seemed frozen in a forced smile. “That seems like it could be a bit of an issue, don’t you think?”

“Well… yeah,” Six replied. “The King’s really fond of his dog, as you probably know. And Julie says that we might need to go to Jacobstown to find someone who can fix it.”

“Jacobstown? Jesus. Last I heard, that place was home to a bunch of –“

“Supermutants? Yeah,” Six said, shrugging. His hands were on his hips, and his eyes weren’t looking at Arcade, but past him, seemingly through the walls of the Old Mormon Fort and beyond into the Mojave. “But I gotta get this dog a brain. And the only person who can do this surgery is someone named Dr. Henry, and Julie tells me he’s in Jacobstown. Rex is in a lot of pain right now, Arcade, and it breaks the King’s heart. This dog is important to him.”

Arcade looked at the robot dog, then back to Six, who was holding the same pose, gaze still elsewhere. Rex had flopped down beside Six, curled up on himself with his head resting against his side, occasionally flicking an ear or letting out a soft whine.

“You’re crazy,” Arcade said, and Six just turned to look at him slowly, not really saying anything. “Like, really fucking crazy. Your shoulder got pretty badly fucked up by some drugged-up gang members, and you’re ready to walk into Jacobstown looking for some doctor Julie knows about who just may be able to help you? And you think this guy will even have a brain to put in Rex?”

“Well… look, we can figure the brain part out later,” Six said, a determined edge to his voice. “And I can do this, really. Haven’t I made my way around Freeside easily enough??”

“Okay, true,” Arcade replied, and a part of his brain seemed to be wandering over to the area of ‘are you actually trying to keep him from leaving because you missed him, you big baby?’ “But supermutants aren’t exactly some guy in a brahmin skin outfit with a pool cue. You’re a determined guy, Six, but I never really pegged you for suicidal.”

Six’s eyes snapped to Arcade’s face, and Arcade felt them punch him in the throat. _Jesus_ , he thought, only holding eye contact for two burning seconds.

“Don’t,” Six said, his voice quiet and even and growling. Arcade didn’t realize Six could be so commanding, so firm. He sounded more like an officer than a mailman.

“Don’t….?” Arcade said, trying to think if anything he had said would have upset Six like that. The man looked almost… angry. A quiet, troubled anger that made Arcade uneasy.

“Suicidal. Don’t.”

It took Arcade a minute, but eventually he put it together that suicidal jokes = not appreciated by a certain courier Six. He just nodded, his neck feeling a little stiff and his fingers twitching anxiously.

_I upset him, didn’t I?_ he thought to himself. _Well, no shit, Arcade, that much is obvious. Fuck._ He felt at once embarrassed and nervous, wondering how to follow that one up without royally fucking it.

Six’s entire face went soft after Arcade went quiet, and he looked away, his body seeming to shrink in size, and he looked a lot less threatening.

“I actually came by for another reason,” he started, and he spoke as if walking carefully, each syllable a quiet footstep. Arcade’s nerves appreciated the gentle treatment.

“Need more stimpacks?” Arcade asked, pushing himself a little bit, and Six shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good. The King gave me some to take with me after I told him I needed to bring Rex to Jacobstown for treatment. What I really came here for was to see if you’d had a change of heart at all.”

“What about?” The unease from moments earlier was swept under the rug, something to be revisited when he was alone later at night.

“About coming with me,” Six said, allowing pause to give air to their conversation before he looked at Arcade again. “I mean… it’s a bit of a hike up into the mountain. And it’s not that I can’t handle myself, but I think it might be useful to have a good-looking doctor helping to look after me in the big, bad wasteland.”

Arcade had to physically stop himself from laughing, mentally berating himself because no, that would be fucking rude.

Six’s words were clearly pronounced and his tone was even, but god, he must’ve been practicing that one because he couldn’t even look at Arcade again, and it was so completely absurd and honest and gut-wrenchingly adorable that Arcade did something he seemed to be doing a lot more recently.

He said ‘fuck it’.

“Overt flirtation will… get you everywhere, Six,” he said, barely able to keep the smile off his face. Now the awkwardness he felt was completely gone, replaced entirely by fondness for the courier who seemed mighty interested in his robot dog at that moment. “I mean. It’s only for a couple days, right?”

“Yeah, sure, just there and back,” Six replied quickly. “You can leave any time you want, it’s no big deal, really.”

“Sounds fair enough to me,” Arcade said. “I mean, I doubt you’ll give me much reason to leave, least you suddenly up and become a flagbearer for the other Fort across the river.”

“I – oh, fuck no,” Six said quickly, and Arcade immediately felt like he’d overdone it again.

“Sorry, was just joking,” he said, then paused. “Let…. Let me know if I joke too much again, okay?”

Six seemed to understand what he meant by that, and nodded, his face twisting into a tight smile.

“Sounds good,” he replied, and Arcade made himself relax. _He doesn’t hate you yet, probably_ , he reasoned. _He is inviting you along on this little trip_. He forced a smile.

“Great!” Arcade replied. “When do we leave?”

“Uh, tomorrow, probably,” Six said. “Already paid for a room at the Wrangler and I promised the Garrets I’d be here for at least tonight. Anything you need to tell me about before we head out, though?”

“Nah, just my dark and troubled past, but you’ll find out about that around a campfire or something.” Arcade said, trying to keep the mood light.

Because it should be. It was exciting, and it was weird, and he was still a little uneasy at having upset Six and still a little bit confused about who Six was and what he fought for but he couldn’t be all that bad, really, even with the whole Lucky 38 thing and the Enclave eyebot, because Six cared so much about Freeside and the people in it, despite only having been hanging around for a month or so.

Julie’d be proud of him, she really would; going off on an adventure with a cute boy. Hey, maybe it’d be worthwhile, if he could come back with a bag full of cazador wings or something. He hoped Six was a good shot.

“Well, alright, then,” Six said, giving Arcade a big, easy grin, his eyes searching Arcade’s as if for some sort of confirmation or acceptance.

“Are we good?” Arcade said, referring half to their impending journey and half to them as people. Six nodded.

“But….”

“But?”

 “There’s just one more thing,” Six said. Suddenly his face changed again, and they were back on the roller coaster. Arcade braced himself, wondering if it was something he’d done. “Before we go…”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Arcade said, relaxing ever so slightly but still feeling nervous.

“Well,” Six said, then trailed off, their eyes locked on Arcade’s knees. The courier looked like he was trapped on something, struggling to push it out over his tongue. It looked painful.

“What’s up?” Arcade asked, but he kept his tone quiet. Six didn’t move.

“There’s something I need to ask you to do for me, while we’re together.”

“Uh, sure, hit me. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to do it, but I’ll try.”

Six brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at his jaw as if to erase the tension from it. He glanced around, as if checking to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“You… I assume when and if you talk about me, you refer to me as you would a man, right?”

That came as more than a surprise. Arcade wasn’t quite sure what he meant at first, but he turned the courier’s words over in his head for a few moments before responding.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well…” Six’s jaw was so tight it could crack a bolt. “Don’t do that anymore.”

Arcade paused again before replying; thinking his words over carefully. Six’s eyes finally landed on him, and Arcade could feel the courier’s gaze. Six looked more trapped animal than human; ready to lash out at whatever came close, be it friend or foe.

“How would you like me to refer to you, then?” He asked quietly. “Should I just call you Six, and nothing else?”

Six’s body seemed to melt at Arcade’s words.

“I find that cumbersome,” the relief that washed over Six said something about Arcade’s new companion, but he wasn’t sure what yet. “Just use a neutral ‘they’ when talking about me. And try not to use language that would… attach me to either gender.”

Arcade met Six’s eyes briefly; another flash of green, something he realized he’d have to get used to during their time together. He looked away.

“I can do that, no problem,” Arcade replied, trying to keep his tone light. He didn’t like the way Six looked at him when they’d asked their question; it was a scared look, a confused one. “Let me know if I slip up, okay?”

Arcade wasn’t looking for a reward, but Six gave him one anyway. Their face broke into an exhausted, easy smile, and they let their chin drop against their chest.

“Thank you,” Six said softly. Arcade was shaken, but he wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s all, really, I mean…” Six inhaled, then quietly let out their breath. “I guess we’ll set off tomorrow, then.”

Letting Six take the conversation where they felt comfortable, Arcade gave them a smile.

“Sounds good,” Arcade replied easily. “I’ll meet you outside the Fort then, tomorrow morning?”

“Perfect.” Six replied, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck I'm sorry this took so long. Anyway, I sat down and mapped out where I wanna take this, and afaik there's only four chapters left! In this fic, but I might revisit these two again and again. Anyway, here's for hoping for Fallout 4 at E3 this year. Take care!


	8. no rest for the wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Sam for the last-minute beta help!

Six woke up well before they were due to meet Arcade, beginning the tedious task of packing up their bags and checking to make sure they were ready for the long trek into the mountains.

It hadn’t been that long since they’d returned from Novac, so they didn’t have as much to repack, this time, but for some reason it seemed harder. Last time they’d had something that would bring them back, and this time they were moving on, with few ties and a lot of fondness for this place.

New Vegas was a strange beast in that way. It was thrumming with life, sure, and god were those lights more than Six could ever want – but they also felt alienated here. It was like this went straight from destruction to civilization, with no in between, and there was a skeleton and skin but nothing inside, except for the people, and they had so little… and some of them so much. It never felt quite right to Six, walking down the Strip with their fake passport burning a hole in their pocket, just another gambler, just someone else.

But at the same time, they weren’t just anyone else. It felt bizarre to claim that celebrity status, but when they left the Lucky 38 it was like they’d walked into a church assembly, and drunk NCR rangers stumbled to their knees while entertainers stopped their singing to watch them go.

Six would not miss that particular aspect of Vegas. They didn’t feel at home in the spot light – they always felt more comfortable in the neon glow, or in the dimness of the Wrangler, or sitting in the sunset-bathed courtyard of the Old Mormon Fort. But nothing – nothing about any of the Vegas lights made them feel as home as they felt under the stars. While packing up was tedious, they were ready to be on the road again, to put the Lucky 38 back on the horizon and to do what they’d done all their life.

They were ready to walk.

Rex had been uncomfortable in most places in their room at the Wrangler; he didn’t like the floor and was too big for the bed, so Six usually wound up sleeping next to him in an awkward spooning position while the robot dog slept peacefully. Rex seemed eager to be leaving the cramped, dark room behind him, his tail wagging hopefully for the first time in a while as Six hoisted their duffle bag over their shoulders and clicked their tongue at ED-E, who beeped happily and buzzed through the door ahead of them, almost in tune to where Six wanted it to go.

The sun was up but the day was still mercifully cool, and Six knelt down next to Rex as they exited the Wrangler, running the pads of their fingers over the robot dog’s brain casing with a worried knit to their eyebrows.

“How you feeling, buddy?” Six murmured, worried that the dog’s casing would overheat if they walked out in the sun too long. Maybe they could find a place to rest in the middle of the afternoon, continue on in the evening.

Rex just whined and pressed his face against Six’s thigh, and Six sighed, straightening up – their gear clanking like a rusty old machine.

The poor animal was doing his best, damaged brain and weakened body aside. Six admired him for his strength and envied him for how he once was; Six could only imagine the cyberdog in his artificial youth, those limbs no longer struggling, his brain no longer on the verge of flickering into nothing.

“C’mon, boy,” they said, giving the dog one last scratch behind his brain container. “The good doctor’s probably waiting for us.”

Freeside was kind of nice in the morning; the shadows were long and it was still cool, and even though the city went on as the city does – still neon and Dean Martin over crackling speakers and the gaggle of Kings hanging about outside the King’s School – it felt much more personal. Six gave a two-fingered wave to the Kings cocking around outside the School, and they waved back, each hanging cigarettes from their lips half to stave off the hunger and half because it’s what their flock did.

Crossing the boundary between inner Freeside and outer Freeside, Six had to stop for a moment when they nearly bumped into a small body crouched on the concrete.

It was the crier for Mick and Ralph’s, sleepy-eyed and scratching at his collarbone. He peered up at Six with squinted eyes, and Six looked down at him with wide ones, uttering a ‘sorry’ at having almost tripped over him.

“S’okay,” the crier replied, and Six noticed what he had been doing; a dirty handkerchief lay open on the ground, with two caps and a couple pieces of radroach meat, some pinyon nuts, and half a bottle of dirty water. Breakfast.

“You’re the courier who’s been inside the Lucky 38, aren’t you?” It was a simple question, and spoken with less awe than it had been when it came from adults; the crier knew what he was saying and he knew what his words met, but his whole world – the kid looked about 8 or 9 – was that little square of handkerchief within all of Freeside; pinyon nuts, dirty water, the radroach in your basement one day a menace, the next day a meal.

“Yeah,” Six said, and squatted down on the ground so they were more level with the crier; they noticed he had a scar above his left eye and was missing a finger on his left hand. His pinky. “Why d’you ask?”

The crier just blinked, taking a piece of radroach meat and bringing it to their mouth, eyes never leaving the courier.

“Because everyone’s been talking about you,” he said, chewing open-mouthed on the radroach. “And they said you had a flying robot and expensive armour. I didn’t know you had a robot-dog, too. Are you a robot?”

Six couldn’t help but smile; scratching at their face and pushing their hair back from their forehead just to have it fall back again, greasy and unwashed and tired.

“I could be,” they said, and the crier munched on radroach again, still staring at them with squinted eyes.

“If you are, is that why Mr. House let you into the Lucky 38?” the crier asked. Six cocked an eyebrow, a smile still hanging off their face.

“It’d certainly make sense, wouldn’t it? But you didn’t hear it from me,” Six said, and the crier just nodded, slowly beginning to wrap up his handkerchief and the food left inside, tucking it into his pocket and taking the bottle of dirty water – putting it to his lips.

“I gotta get to work,” the crier mumbled, never taking his eyes off Six once. Six stood as well, Rex gently butting his nose into the back of their knee while ED-E floated silently alongside them.

“How long have you been working for Mick and Ralph?”

“Four years.”

“That’s a long time. Do you live with them?”

“I live in the building beside them. There’s a bunch of other kids that sleep there, too, and some older people who look after the younger ones,” the crier explained. Then he dusted his hands off on his pants and peered back at Six

“I gotta get to work, now,” he said again, tucking the water bottle into a pouch hanging off his belt loops. He was done with Six's questions.

And then it was like Six didn’t exist; the crier turned to a group of mercs hanging out across the street, cupping his hands around his mouth to call out to them.

“Come to Mick and Ralph’s, where – “

Satisfied with the child’s impermanent curiosity, Six turned away, clicking his tongue at ED-E who whistled a sigh, following along behind the courier with the cyberdog bringing up the rear.

The Old Mormon Fort was quiet in the morning; cool and covered in long shadows, with sleeping rolls set up as extra beds for patients; little blue and red lumps dotted in front of dirty white tents, peaceful and quiet and not quite home-y but definitely safe. That was most of the Fort’s appeal, Six thought.

“Hey, right on time,” a familiar voice came from just inside one of the tents, and Six had a grin on their face before they’d even turned to look at Arcade.

“Are you ready to go?” Six asked, excitement biting at their tone. Arcade looked tired, but then he was smiling, too, and the longer he looked at Six the more he seemed to smile. Six liked that. Arcade was safe, and they liked knowing he would smile for them.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Arcade sighed, leaning down to try and pet Rex, who was hanging out at Six’s feet. Rex whined, shying away.

“Don’t mind him, I think his cranial dome is giving him issues today,” Six told Arcade, and the taller man straightened up to look at the courier. He cut an impressive figure, even with his shoulders less than straight, his hands hanging at his side like he didn’t know what to do with them. Six noticed the way he never really looked at their eyes, or their face too directly, but it was an Arcade way of interacting that they found soothing.

“I've mapped out a route for us,” Six declared after a couple seconds, lifting up their pip-boy arm and flicking the dial till the Mojave map came into view.

“We'll go north around Vegas, I think. Seems to be the most direct route. I've never been to Jacobstown before, but I've heard about it,” they said, zooming in on the faint road marking on their map.

“I've never been, either,” Arcade admitted, leaning his head in close to Six's to get a look at the map as well. “I've heard it's a lovely vacation spot but it's hell trying to get two consecutive days off around here. Also my ski suit isn't mutant-proof.”

Six grinned down at their pip-boy despite themself.

“Well, not with that attitude, it isn't,” they replied, closing the map and letting their arm drop, looking up to find themselves inches from Arcade's face. When the doctor stood up straight, they were eye-level with his lips, and they noticed the top two buttons of his shirt were undone under his lab coat.

“Don't worry, I'm not bringing it anyway.” Arcade said, rolling his eyes. “Packing light, unlike someone.”

“I've travelled from farther than here,” Six argued, shifting the weight of their duffle bag on their back. Arcade just smiled, turning to pick up the dirty backpack with the sleep roll at his feet, and Six took that as a cue that it was time to stop fucking around and just leave.

It was easy to smile with Arcade, easy to leave with a spring in their step that Six hadn't felt since Goodsprings – maybe since they were born.

Together, the courier and the doctor left the fort and the walls out outer Vegas, coaxing the robot dog along with them as they went. It was slow going, especially with Rex dodging Arcade warily every time he got too close – the dog barely trusted Six as it was, and too many new people didn't seem to be something he could deal with right now.

ED-E booped along happily, bringing up the rear.

Walking alongside the Vegas wall was like creeping past a behemoth; the titan of the ruined city overshadowing everything else. Six felt – not anxious, but bouncy, striding along at a brisk walk before breaking into a jog, their assault carbine in hand, before slinging it back over their shoulder and slowing once more. Arcade was either half a step or a full ten feet behind, but Six wasn’t really paying attention; their gaze was on the mountains, a glimmer of excitement masking any other emotion in their eyes.

“I’ve never been to Jacobstown before,” Six said, almost breathlessly. Arcade laughed.

“What, no one sending supermutants the mail?”

Six stopped in their tracks, shaking their head to clear it.

“Supermutants use the radio.”

“The radio?”

“Or, they used to,” Six paused. “Black Mountain Radio.”

“Oh,” Arcade said. “I think I heard about that. Someone coming through said they had a sanctuary, or something.”

“It's mostly nightkin and second-gens up there right now,” Six explained. “But it was so irridated that when the supermutants came east it was the perfect place to set up, I guess. You can hardly go up there, with all the radiation.”

“What?” Arcade said, taking longer strides so he could fall into pace properly beside Six, who had finally settled on a gait. “You tried?”

“...Yeah,” Six said. “I might try again, sometime. I owe a guy.”

“Are you gonna try and drag me on that adventure too?” Arcade asked dryly. Six shook their head.

“Nah. I don't involve people in my debts. I felt bad enough asking you to come to Novac with me last week.”

“Did you 'owe a guy' back then, too?”

“I did, actually,” Six replied. They had stopped equipping and unequipping their assault carbine, leaving it snug on their back.

“You seem to rack up one hell of a debt, Six.”

“I just needed a lot of help to get to Vegas,” Six paused. “That's all.”

Arcade tilted his head up, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed at the sky. Six watched him, quietly enjoyed the way his neck and chin looked, proudly exposed to the great blue.

The number of farm houses in any kind of working order dwindled the farther they got from Vegas; they were heading mostly northwest now, towards the highway, but would break off before the rockslide barrier of mountain shards and trapped cars cut them off. The road to Jacobstown branched off before that, snaking up into the mountains to the lodge.

Six wondered if there'd be any snow up there. They hadn't seen snow since their other life, their life before. It was almost a fond memory, something innocent and childish, but it felt distant and superficial to think of it like that. They had not seen snow in a while. It would be nice to experience a change.

Six turned around to look at Arcade, who was slow but kept up steadily behind them. A soft breeze was blowing across the Mojave, brushing their bangs against their face.

_Once we get back to Vegas, I'm getting someone to cut my hair,_ they thought to themselves. Maybe if they could get their hands on some bleach, they'd dye it all blond again. Or maybe black, and cut it short, like the Kings wore it. It was hardly a change but they hadn't been able to do anything with their hair since Goodsprings, and it was getting too long and it got in the way. 

_Wonder if Arcade will help. He's a doctor, right? Gotta have finess with his hands. Maybe he can hold a pair of scissors._

“Hey, hey, Six, slow down,” Arcade called out, and Six stopped in their tracks and turned, realizing that while they were thinking about their hair, Arcade, ED-E and Rex had stopped behind them, with Rex crouched low to the ground. As they jogged back to the rest of their convoy, they heard Rex whimpering quietly – a different whimper than usual, which made Six wonder if this was brain pain or something else.

“He won't go any further,” Arcade said, crouching with a hand resting near one of the dog's paws. When Six got close enough to touch, though, Rex pressed his shaking body against their legs. They rested their hands on his back, feeling the spine under his fur. Six dropped their duffle bag next to them on the ground.

“What's wrong, boy?” They asked him quietly. “Does it hurt?”

Rex didn't make a sound, pressing himself close to the courier. Six pet the dog in oblivious worry, hardly noticing that Arcade had stood up, shielding his eyes to gaze out towards the mountains.

“Six,” he said suddenly, with an urgency that forced Six to look up.

From the base of the mountains that hid the road to Jacobstown, Six could only just make out four men approaching them, with guns and spears and red on their helmets.

Six shot up like a bullet, making Rex yelp in surprise and wrap his tail under his belly. ED-E quivered in place, and Arcade looked from Six to the figures coming towards them, his face half a question, his mouth moving to form a statement.

Six pulled their assault carbine down off their back. They hadn't really used it, not since they bought the damn thing. They hadn't had a reason to.

But this. This was the reason they'd got the gun in the first place.

“We need to go,” they said with an urgency, panic steeling their limbs and turning them into a useless wall, as if they could stand between Vegas and the party coming towards them. Arcade, still stuck between not understanding and understanding far too well, reached under his lab coat, grabbing his plasma defender.

But where would they run? Back to Vegas? They couldn't move that fast, couldn't get within the walls safely before the legionnaires caught up with them. Six looked around wildly – maybe Westside was close enough, but could they really bring the Legion to their doors, could they expect to be welcome or would they be left for dead -

“ _Six_.” Arcade spoke with a fierceness that jolted Six's panicking mind, drawing the courier's attention to the approaching group. They stopped just across the highway, cracked concrete the only thing dividing them.

They had dogs with them, two angry beasts with their lips drawn back into a snarl, flanking the Centurion in front, who honed in on Six with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

“Courier,” he called out to them, and Six couldn't do anything. They couldn't move, couldn't tell Rex or Arcade to run – no matter how badly they wanted to, no matter how badly they wanted to say that this was their fight, and no one else's, except for maybe ED-E.

“The Caesar has marked you for death,” Six rested their finger on the trigger, “and the Legion... obeys.”

Six recognized this one. Not from the last party that had come for them, but they'd seen his face – probably in a narrow escape, or perhaps Nelson.

“But you already know this, Six, and now there are legionnaires waiting for you in hell, too.”

Six didn't have time to answer, or even look to see Arcade's reaction – Rex turned and started to run North, towards a cluster of abandoned buildings a little ways away, and ED-E shot in front of the two humans. While the two mongrels took off after the robot dog, jaws snapping, ED-E fired a shot at the Centurion who'd spoken, hitting him in the shoulder.

Six was not good at acting fast. Arcade surprised them when he drew his defender quickly, aiming for one of the assassins in the back, a decanus with a sawed-off shotgun.

The other two, a vexilliarus and a legion vet, turned to the courier, and they raised their weapon.

“Arcade!” they yelled, firing and diving behind a rusted-out car on their side of the road. ED-E stayed topside, shooting with robot-worthy precision and allowing Arcade to scramble behind the car next to Six, yelling when a bullet grazed his upper arm.

“Christ, Six!” Arcade yelled back, and Six felt a stabbing in their gut. Arcade looked half-horrified, half ready set, and he slammed his back against the rusted door of the car, blindfiring from where the windsheild met the hood.

“We need to go get Rex,” Six said urgently, and Arcade looked at them like they'd gone ghoul.

“We need to not get fucking shot!” Arcade exclaimed, and Six understood what he was saying, but what Six had _meant_ was that Rex needed to be what they were surviving for.

Six had to deliver on their promise.

“My bag,” Six said, looking up at where they'd dropped it, about five feet away from the safety of the ruined car. “I need my bag. Gimme my bag.”

“I can't get it!” Arcade exclaimed, and ED-E let out a little toot of victory as the Legion vet fell to the ground with a yell, ED-E's lazer having busted his knee. “You got an expendable arm or something? Maybe four feet long?”

Six felt stupid for asking, crawling across the back of the car, pressed as tightly to the dirt as they could manage.

“Cover me!” A shotgun went off, and ED-E wailed. Bullets pinged off the broken car.

“What?”

“Cover me!”

Six dove out from behind their hiding place, grabbing the duffle bag and holding it up in front of them. Six immediately realized this was a stupid idea, and the bag wasn't going to protect them from the bullets flying their way.

“ _Six_!” Arcade hissed, throwing himself against the hood of the car and firing wildly, catching the Centurion in the helmet and sending him flying. “Get back here!”

Six stopped for a precious half second, watching the way Arcade looked at him wide eyed and fearful, his hand outstretched and reaching for Six. Six, realizing what he wanted, tossed him the duffel bag, but Arcade gave a frustrated cry and dove out after Six amid the gunfire, ED-E protecting them. He grabbed Six by the front of their armour and yanked them both backwards behind the car.

Six landed on top of Arcade with a yell, and quickly scrambled off of him, staying ducked behind the car as they ripped open their duffel bag.

“When I say run, run!” they yelled, pulling out a frag grenade and twisting around, chucking it over the hood of the car and across the road. They hit the ground and took Arcade down with them, praying as they heard the assassin party yell and ED-E beep angrily.

“I'm sorry, ED-E!” Six cried, scrambling to their feet and grabbing their duffel bag. “Okay, now _run_!”

As Arcade scrambled to his feet behind them, they took off at a run into the open wasteland, turning their head only to glance back at the tiny, ferocious eyebot firing at the wounded Legionnaires behind them, giving them time to escape.

“Rex ran towards the farmstead,” Six called back, out of breath, going at a flat-out sprint in the direction of the three dogs. They heard the Centurion yell something but they were not coming after them – ED-E and the grenade had taken down two of the party, and they seemed to be hesitant to continue the chase outnumbered.

Arcade was only half a step behind them as Six went tearing into the farmyard, the sound of snarling dogs coming from an abandoned barn.

Six skidded to a halt in front of the door, and immediately the smell of blood hit them. Two bodies, freshly dead, in merc gear and holding crowbars, lay dead near the floor, their throats ripped out and eyes wide. The two legion mongrels sat at the base of a ladder, their open, bloody mouths turned towards the rafters. Rex seemed to have climbed up the ladder and was now laying flat against the floorboards of the upper level, snout peeking down worriedly at the jagged teeth below.

When he saw Six, he let out a yip and stood up, tail giving a hopeful half-wag. The legion dogs turned to face the courier, eyes hungry slits as they slunk towards them.

“Dammit, Six,” Arcade slid to a halt next to the courier, and he looked from Six's wide-eyed stare to the dogs in front of them, freezing up and going quiet.

Then Arcade raised his plasma defender and shot one, and as it yelped, its companion leapt for Six's throat.

Six threw up their arm and fell back to the ground with the dog on top of them, its teeth sinking into their forearm. They heard Arcade yell and fire more shorts, and with their free arm they had just enough sense to pull a combat knife from its sheath at their side and stab at the mongrel with abandon.

(They'd picked up the knife from dead ghouls down south, near Camp Searchlight, and while they'd returned the irradiated dog tags to the NCR officer stationed there they'd kept the knife, because they didn't have one.)

The dog let go after the third or fourth stab, but Six kept wailing at it, sinking the knife into its flank and neck and eventually pushing the limp animal off of them, and it landed on the ground with a dull thud.

“Six,” Arcade breathed, and they looked up at him, his face creased in worry. They looked down at the blood on their hands. They felt sick.

While Rex whined in the rafters, Arcade crouched down next to the courier, hands hovering in worry.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, and Six stared for a minute before nodding. Their heart was racing, their hands felt shaky and numb, and they didn't want to think about the fact that they were still being chased.

They'd just tried to do the right thing.

“Yes,” Six said finally, and Arcade gingerly held up their injured arm, unzipping their dropped duffel bag with the other hand and reaching around the inside pocket for a stimpack.

He pulled it out and with careful precision slid the needle into their wound, pressing down on the trigger and releasing the healing chemicals into the arm.

“Just give that a minute,” Arcade said quietly, as if Six didn't know to hold their arm still while the stim healed them, mending the flesh and repairing bone. The effect always worked best when the wound was fresh, so the stim didn't have to work around the body's own healing process.

Arcade stood and walked to the ladder, kicking the mongrel he'd shot out of the way and looking up into the rafters.

“Rex, come on, boy,” he said, reaching his arms up for the dog to scramble down into. Rex sniffed nervously, but then leapt onto the top part of the ladder, all but smashing into Arcade from there and almost knocking the both of them over.

Six could only watch with an empty stare as Arcade set Rex back down on solid ground, and only a worried whirr made them turn their head. ED-E, a little worse for the wear but still kicking, floated up to the entrance of the barn, hovering quietly over where Six was sitting as if it knew. Six struggled to their feet, sloppy and feeling almost dizzy, and put a hand against ED-E's round body. ED-E stayed as still as it could as the courier pressed their forehead against it, letting their eyes close quietly and just listening to the empty echo of the wastes, the wind blowing through the farmstead. It reeked of blood.

“Six?” Arcade's voice was wavering and weak, as if he was unsure of what to do or say to help. Six didn't know, didn't want to know what to say to reassure the doctor – they felt stupid for bringing him, as they felt stupid for every damn thing they'd become wrapped up in the past few weeks.

“The bodies are Viper gang members,” Arcade said quietly. “But there's four sleep rolls. I think two of them made it out. I checked the bodies for supplies but they only had a couple caps and some healing powder. We should get going so we don't get caught up in anything else if their friends come back.”

Six just nodded, feeling tired and weary. They stepped out of the entrance of the barn, turning to look at the shaken robodog, the worried doctor, and the quiet, resilient eyebot hovering just behind them.

“We'll camp out on the mountain road tonight,” Six said quietly. “I hope you don't mind.”

They didn't say another word as they turned back to the road, not wanting to think anymore, or remember anymore – they just wanted to walk.

-

Arcade felt at a loss for how to help his friend.

Their party pushed on with a weary energy that was driven mostly by the wide-eyed way Six kept on, their legs more than just legs and their silence disturbing. Six moved like they were haunted, anxious and upsetting and Arcade could only skim the surface of why.

He knew that the legion had come for Six – no, been sent for them, they'd been _marked for death_ – and he wasn't sure why, and he was reminded of just how much he didn't know about the courier and why that disturbed him in the first place.

Fuck's sake.

Even Rex was quiet as they followed the road up into the mountains, trotting along with barely a complaint as his brain container flickered uncertainly . ED-E hovered between the dog and the courier, either floating steadily behind Six or dipping down to glide slowly beside Rex.

Arcade, among everything else he now had to understand, wondered how much personality the little eyebot had in it. He watched the way it herded Six along up the road into the hills, soft and quiet and almost caring. Arcade was too tired to hate it for what it was, not when it was becoming clear it understood Six way better than he did.

“We can set up here,” Six said after they'd walked about an hour up the road, coming to a place where the road had a good amount of grassy space between it and the mountains.

“Seems safe enough,” Arcade agreed, all too eager to reassure Six. Six just shrugged, their face empty.

“It's a place,” they said, and pointed a little ways ahead. “Behind that big rock, let's make a fire. We'll be more sheltered that way.”

Arcade sighed quietly and adjusted the pack on his back, trotting along after Six who jogged ahead determinedly.

“You have your own sleep roll, right?” Arcade said, thinking. There was four of them, but he supposed tow technically didn't need a bed -

Six stopped very suddenly, throwing out their arm and smacking Arcade in the chest. Arcade let out an 'oof', but Six's hand flew over his mouth.

“Bighorners,” they said quietly.

There were three of them; a fully-grown male and two females, massive and intimidating, with dark, beady eyes that watched the ragtag group.

“Let's.. climb around,” Six said, pointing at some rocks that led up to a small ledge that came down off the hillside. “That male isn't going to let us any closer.”

Arcade just nodded quietly, and the four of them turned around, with Six taking the lead. They walked in front of Arcade, who just watched their hips, wondering when and where the courier had learned about bighorner behaviour – they must've been a farmer, or something, maybe in Goodsprings.

Six helped Rex onto the ledge after themself and Arcade, and the courier pulled together some loose rocks for a makeshift fire pit, sending Arcade a little further up the road for some dried branches. Arcade didn't have to go far to start seeing more trees, and it hit him they must have come a far way. He wondered what Vegas looked like, from this distance – the mountainsides were blocking it from view.

Arcade came back half an hour later and Six started a fire, and by that time it was getting dark out – it had been a long time since the incident with the Legion, and even longer since they left Vegas. The trek had blurred together for the doctor, and he was grateful to finally sit down and pull out a can of pork and beans to warm up against the flame.

Six looked exhausted, even as they ate dried Iguana on a stick. They drank occasionally from a canteen at their side, with bits of water escaping their mouth and dribbling down their chin. They didn't even move when Rex went to lick the drops off, just stared at the fire, like some war-torn hero reminiscing about their past. Or something.

Arcade watched Six from across the light of the fire, thinking how stupid this was, how he'd read stories like this before and it always wound up with heart-to-hearts and kisses and maybe if the real world mirrored fiction this might be easy. If bad hero novels was all he had to live up to, then so it was.

“Hey, Six?” Arcade said softly, clearing his throat slightly. Six looked up from their hands, which they had been staring at with quiet intensity.

“I don't want to misguide you and make you think I'm any kind of good listener or friend when it comes to these things,” ah, Arcade, how appropriately vague, how wonderful of you. “But if there's something you need to talk about, I'm here for you, okay? I'm a bit of a dead weight as a companion but the least I can do is listen.”

Six's eyes started through the fire and Arcade was almost glad for the heat between them. The courier didn't say anything for a moment, and Rex huffed and rolled onto his side, watching the two humans with quiet eyes.

“I am honest to god sorry that I did not tell you I have Caesar's Legion out for my blood,” Six said, and Arcade might've laughed if it wasn't for the dead serious tone Six was using.

“Well, that might've been nice to know ahead of time,” Arcade said, then paused. “Although I guess it just means that you've pissed them off enough to be appropriately Caesar-hating for my liking.”

His half-joke fell flat, and they fell back into silence, and Arcade didn't like it. He didn't want to push the conversation, or god forbid push Six, but Six looked lost and tired and scared and he needed something to work with, here.

“...Am I right to assume that the injury you had when I met you was not caused by a gang attack after all?” Arcade continued, things starting to click into place.

Six just nodded.

“They've been hunting me for a while,” Six said, breaking their silence. Arcade listened. “I wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't have ED-E. I was afraid it would get worse once I killed the last party that came for me.”

Arcade felt a quiet unease at the fact that he had been right when he first met Six. Six had lied to him – and maybe it wasn't the lie he had expected, but it sure was something unsettling. Suddenly they weren’t a quiet, awkward traveller who’d been unable to get out of a gang attack unscathed; no, apparently Six survived a Legion assassin party. Multiple.

“You... killed four legionnaires on your own?”

“With ED-E, but... yeah,” Six went quiet. “I got good at shooting, I guess.”

 _You got good at shooting_ , Arcade thought increduously. _Christ, Six._

“I know it's not my place to ask,” Arcade said, staring into the fire, and not at Six. “But I have to. Why would Caesar hate you so much that he sent assassins after you? Are you important? NCR? What are they doing, back in Goodsprings?” He paused. “If you're really from there.”

Six sighed.

“I am from Goodsprings, I guess,” they said. “But that's an equally long story. I.. will tell you later, if you want.”

“Fair enough. We all have our history. I'm just curious about yours with Caesar.”

“...It's not so much a one-time event as it was and continues to be a variety of things, if you want to know,” Six said quietly. “I was persistent enough to get his attention, I guess.”

“What? You hunt legionnaires or something? Is that why you came to Vegas?”

“I came to Vegas on personal business. I just... I got to know the legion along the way. And so I did something about it.”

Arcade stayed quiet, realizing his questions were slowing things down more than anything. Six was quiet, too, but then he picked up that Arcade was letting them lead.

“I 'liberated' some Power Gangers being held hostage at a Legion camp,” Six said finally. “And Nelson. I was asked by the NCR officer stationed there to take out some hostages – I'm okay as a sniper – and I couldn't do it. They strung them up on telephone polls, like crosses.” Six sounded strangled, haunted, as if they had never seen such things in the waste before. Arcade was surprised by this.

Of course it hurt him, to know what was done to people, and to know what was done to people by the Legion. But people didn't care. Arcade knew, historically, people didn't care. There was nothing new about it, except maybe the fact Six looked haunted.

“I couldn't let them do to those rangers what they did to Nipton,” Six said finally. “And I guess that's when they started to come for me.”

“You heard about Nipton, too, then?” Arcade had heard reports on the radio. Once they lost contact with the town a part of him had known it was over. He hadn't heard the part about it having been the Legion, though.

“I was there,” Six said, their voice still. Arcade went quiet. “You can't go North on the I-15 if you aren't armed to the teeth and ready for Deathclaws. I had to take the long way around the mountains and passed through Nipton. It was the first time I met the Legion.”

“...So you saw the Bull burn Nipton?”

“I saw the smoke. Vulpes Inculta was still there when I walked into town. The crucified weren't even dead yet,” Six had started to shake, and Rex had his head rested on his paws, looking tense. Six grabbed at the top of their boots and tugged, over and over, pulling for the sake of pulling.

“It was fucked,” Six said, and their voice was still quiet but it was swelling, rising full of something Arcade didn't know what to name. “They held a lottery.”

“A lottery?”

“They gave everyone in town a ticket and drew names. Some were killed immediately, some were taken as slaves. Some were crucified. The runner-up had both his legs broken and only one man went free,” Six wasn't looking at Arcade, and he sounded half-haunted, half-horrified. “I met him on his way out of town, and he was – he was drunk on it. I don't know if he just couldn't handle what he had seen, but... I couldn't. I couldn't do it.”

“Jesus,” Arcade said, exhaling quietly. Now was not the time to be rational; now was a time to be angry. Something was stirring deep inside of him, and he could see it in Six, too, shaking the courier to the bone whereas it only made him furious. “I'm sorry, Six. I'm fucking sorry.”

“And you know what the worst part is?” Six said bitterly, and Arcade realized that there were tears in their eyelashes, running down their cheeks and chin. “You know what fucking eats me alive every single time I think about it?”

Six inhaled shakily, and Arcade got up in one sudden movement to move around the fire to where Six sat. He sat down next to the courier and put an arm around him, held them as strong as he knew how, and the courier buried their face in their arms and let out a sob.

“For all that Caesar wants my fucking head, I didn't do shit to save Nipton. I never killed Vulpes Inculta. I let him and the bastards who burnt Nipton walk away, and they saw I was a courier and asked me to fucking tell someone what they had done – they didn't burn Nipton as anything but a warning. I was scared, I was surrounded, sure, but I stood there on a street –“ here, they choked “- on a street lined with men crucified on telephone poles, and I nodded at everything Vulpes said. Because it scared me.”

Now their hands were shaking. Six was shaking all over; they tucked their hands between their thighs, trying to keep them still.

“It’s not like I hadn’t killed someone before. It’s not like I hadn’t kept a gun in self-defence my whole fucking life. I have no problem with killing, Arcade. But what they did – what he did – scared me. And I can't ever pull the trigger anymore without thinking about it.”

“Six.” Arcade said, wishing he could just grab his companion by the chin and force them to look at him. “Six, that doesn’t make you weak. That makes you fucking human.”

Six broke down into sobs again; head bowed, shaking rapidly from side to side. Arcade bit his cheek, wishing he had the words to comfort his friend. He held them tight against his chest, and the little courier tucked themself against him – his heart racing as he felt one of their hands search out his arm, grabbing it.

“What Caesar does is horrific,” Arcade reasoned quietly, wondering if Six could feel what he was trying to convey through touch. All he wanted was to let them know they were not alone in the wastes. “And you are no less of a person for being horrified at what you see done by them. How many were there? Seven? Eight? And Vulpes Inculta? Six, you aren’t a bad person for the choices you made. You aren’t a bad person for being weak.”

Acknowledgement of weakness was necessary, Arcade thinks. Lying about your own strength in a place that does its best to remind you of how frail you are will do no one any good. There’s no shame in having to run. There’s no shame in having to cry.

“I am weak,” Six said, and it sounded like a confession. Six sounded like they wanted to scream. “Arcade, I'm a courier, and I came to Vegas because someone stole something that wasn't mine in the first place. I just wanted to get my package back. I just wanted to shoot the guy who shot me in the head and left me for dead in Goodsprings.”

Arcade stayed quiet, feeling Six's breath start to even out as he lay against his chest. From this angle he couldn't see the scar he knew hid on Six's forehead, but when Six talked about being left for dead, he knew.

“I wasn't born in Goodsprings. I was reborn there. I was dug up out of a shallow grave by a robot – a fucking robot – they had, and they only knew me as Courier Six, because that's what my delivery notice said. I haven't thought about life before then since I woke up. I don't know, Arcade. It was all just about that man and my package, all about walking and the Mojave. It's been fucking hell, and I don't want to go back. I made it all the way to Vegas without thinking about what I was doing or why and then I saw him and I chickened out and I haven't even done what I set out to do.

I've done everything else but take revenge. If this is supposed to be revenge. I tracked this Benny across the fucking Mojave and I’m not really sure what I wanted from him.”

Arcade had nothing to say to what Six was telling him. He wasn't even sure he completely understood. But this was important to Six, so he would listen, and find time to understand later.

“I'm sorry,” Six said finally, after a minute of silence. “I didn't mean to explode on you. I didn't expect a Legion assassin party to come after me today.”

“Well, I don't think anyone ever expects it,” Arcade said quietly. He felt Six smile against him.

Six did sit up, finally, and it broke Arcade's heart to watch them wipe their tears away on their grubby hands. He offered the sleeve of his lab coat, and Six just shook their head.

“I'm fine, thanks,” they mumbled. “I really am sorry for crying.”

“Don't be. Don't ever be sorry for crying or not crying. Both are fine. You're fine,” Arcade said, with quiet firmness. “You're fine, Six. You will be.”

Six gave Arcade a tired smile, and it did little to ease Arcade's worries, but it helped. He felt ok with Six being a raw, opened wound, so long as the courier was so receptive to his poor help.

“You know what I love about you, Arcade?” Six said, taking the doctor by surprise.

“My... interesting life? Dashing good looks?” He put forward, wondering if a joke was needed or would be appreciated. Six did give a tired smile, which was enough.

“You've always called me Six. And you stopped referring to me as a man when I asked you to,” Six said quietly.

“I mean, that's your name,” Arcade said with a pause. “And you're not the only person I've met whose been put off by the outdated approach to gender. Just became something survived the bombs doesn't necessarily mean it needs to be preserved.”

Six was looking at Arcade with a quiet expression, something halfway between relief and understanding.

“I feel like it shouldn't be as important to me as it is,” they said. Arcade shrugged.

“You know what's important to me? Sunset Sarsparillas. Being alone at night. Clothes that don't feel wrong. Being alone in general. They're not important, but they're mine, so they're something,” he said. “Being called Six is yours. Being what you are is yours. So it's something.”

Six was actually smiling, again, and it was hard to tell they'd been crying in the dying light. Their face looked so good outlined by the fire; scratchy and dirty and thin, with the ends of their shaggy blond hair falling in their face.

“I'm almost glad for the shot-in-the-head thing if it's a rebirth,” Six said quietly. “I go by Six because one of the first things I did after I woke up was sit out on this doctor’s front porch and read the delivery notice I had on me at the time. It said ‘Six of Six’ at the top, and I dunno. Six just felt right. Like… it felt more like me than my name had. I was Six of six. There was value behind me. I can’t really describe it properly but I held on to that, and I stopped telling people my given name. I felt like I was taking control of who I was.”

“I can understand that,” Arcade replied. “Well, maybe not exactly. But I get what you're saying.”

“If I have nothing else I can control in this fucking wasteland, at least I have that.” Six said, letting out a tired, bitter laugh. It hurt Arcade to hear that, to remember Six was hurting. Had he noticed it before? Had he known on some level, or had that gone over his head?

“You look like you could use some rest,” Arcade found himself saying, almost immediately kicking himself mentally. He just wanted Six to stop looking so sad.

“Yeah, well, I guess we all can,” Six replied, looking at the tired robodog near the dying fire. “Should we unravel our beds, then?”

Arcade was greatful that being on the road meant not having to do much to get ready to sleep. He was equally greatful for the eyebot, too, as it didn't sleep at all and instead hovered around the perimeter of their campsite, leaving him and Six time to lay down.

Rex came and put his head on the small of Six's back as the courier lay face-down on their bedroll, head turned to look at Arcade through hoodied eyes as he lay down next to them.

“We'll make it to Jacobstown by morning,” the courier promised, and Arcade could hear a tint of exhaustion in their voice – perhaps their confessional had taken a lot out of them, or maybe it was the gunfight. Maybe they were just tired.

“I'll try not to slow us down too much,” Arcade joked softly, and Six gave him a smile, closing their eyes and resting their head on their arms.

“Yeah, keep up, old man,” they said tiredly, and Arcade went quiet after that, lost for a moment in how soft the courier looked, covered in dirt and dried blood as they were.

Six fell asleep without much help, but Arcade lay awake for far too long. He was listening to the nearly soundless ED-E watching over them, like a moon from another world – Rex's laboured breaths and restless kicking, and Six, who slept on beside him. Six's face in the moonlight filled him with an ache he couldn't describe, and he could only compare it to the way he sometimes felt alone outside the Vegas walls at night, with the way the Mojave stretched on and on and the mountains looked less like mountains and more like other planets. He'd caught glimpses of it, when he'd stare at Six under the sun, but this was different, and he didn't want to sleep least he lose that feeling and wind up searching for it again and again.

When he did fall asleep, he dreamt of the world, moments before the bombs dropped, and he lifted his hands to the sky as though he could stop them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'm going to actually squish everything in this fic into two more chapters just to make it an even 10, and because come September I have another big writing project I'd like to take on. I've been writing way more as of late (I've finished two smaller fics besides this, and one is already published) and this fic has really done for me what I needed it to do, but I'll probably write something longer and sappier about it when the time comes.
> 
> Thanks for all your wonderful comments and kudos and all that jazz. Kudos are lovely but leaving comments about what you liked/didn't like so much are also nice! I thrive on feedback and critique, don't be shy, I'm in college for this shit. Love y'all.


	9. the road ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like I got this out in a decent amount of times. Kudos to Sam for the beta help!

“Nice shot,” Arcade said. Six lowered the plasma defender, the remains of a mutated mantis falling to the ground in a heap.

“Thanks. It's a decent one,” Six replied, holding the gun by the barrel and handing it back to Arcade. “A little weird to get used to shooting, is all. I greatly prefer bullets.”

“Energy weapons fire weird if you're not used to them,” Arcade agreed, holstering the plasma defender on his belt and giving Six a smile. “But you did well. I'm surprised you'd never used them before.”

“Believe it or not, it's a bit easier to find bullets than it is to find energy cells,” Six replied, picking their duffle bag back up again and wandering over to the mantis remains, peering into the pile and nudging it with their toe. “Damn, no eggs. Guess we're not making omelettes.”

“I don't think those are edible,” Arcade said dryly, coming up behind them. “And probably irradiated to hell and back.”

“Arcade, almost everything we eat is full of radiation.”

“Oh, I know, I know. But what get radiation poisoning when the food doesn't even taste good?”

“So, you're telling me,” Six said, straightening up and turning to walk alongside Arcade, back towards the main road up into the mountains. “That if I were to give you an irradiated cake, and it was your favourite type of cake, you would eat it?”

“Well, I don't know where you 'd get a cake, let alone a severely irradiated one,” Arcade said, sighing and walking alongside the courier. “But sure. Death is coming. Who cares.”

There was a part of Arcade that had been worried, the night before, that things would have been different after the incident. That from the moment Six saw those Legion assassins and stabbed that dog in the throat, it would be hard for the two of them to carry on – and that Six telling Arcade why they were being chased would have made it harder. It was a heavy weight to bear, and Six seemed to be doing their best to avoid bearing it quite that openly.

But Six appeared to be okay. They'd slept through the night, and that was half the battle. They didn't mention the Legion, and Arcade didn't bring it up. He hoped they were far enough into the mountains that it wouldn't matter anymore.

They'd set out about mid-morning and were well into the trees, now, but it was hard to tell on Six's pip-boy map how much of that was mountain. They'd been walking for two hours now, and hadn't moved nearly as far as Arcade thought they should, but maybe that was alright.

Rex seemed to be holding up okay, and the mountain air had him wagging and even chasing after some giant mantis. It was calming to Six, so it calmed Arcade, too.

“These things sure seem to be plentiful, up here,” Six commented, watching as Rex barked and growled at the over-sized bugs before turning tail and running back to them, much more energetic than he'd been before.

“Must be a nest nearby,” Arcade said absently, watching as Six jogged up in front of him to meet with Rex, bending down to give the cyberdog a firm, welcoming pat.

For all the time Arcade spent looking at the courier, it was a view he didn't often get to enjoy. Six had small shoulders and a slight figure, arms and legs at odd angles with each other but moved with a fluidity that could only come from their excitement.

Beyond that, Arcade really had to cut the bullshit. Six had a nice ass. And thighs. And it what a shame it was that Six's armour clung so tightly to those ass and thighs, the designer obviously not considering those particular areas to need an extensive amount of padding.

_This is thoroughly embarrassing and ridiculous_ , Arcade thought to himself, as Six straightened up and set off down the road ahead. Arcade brought up the rear, with ED-E beeping along after him, and to Arcade the eyebot sounded almost disappointed in him.

_I'm disappointed in me too, ED-E_ , the doctor thought miserably, pushing on.

Arcade almost ran into Six's back when they stopped suddenly at the top of the road. Six didn't seem to hear Arcade's apologies, though, as their eyes were glued on the distant has-been peaks of the mountains.

“It's... beautiful, isn't it?”

“Hmm?” Arcade still had his mind on something else, like the way the sun danced on Six like poetry from before the war. He realized, though, that Six was talking about the view.

Arcade took a moment to recompose himself, glancing at the peaks so he could give Six a proper, honestly answer. He tried to see them as Six saw them, but his gaze kept traveling back to the wide-eyed courier, who seemed to be caught up in something Arcade himself couldn't understand.

“...They're lovely, yes,” he said, glancing down the road. He was surprised he could see their destination from here, peaking out from behind trees and a curve in the road. Tall, log fences, and the rooftops of the lodge. It had to be Jacobstown.

“You know when you read old world books and they describe valleys or mountains and sometimes you can tell the author didn't have enough words for what they were saying?” Six said quietly.

“Maybe. I don't know, I read mostly nonfiction and poetry.”

“Well, poetry works too. There's description there.”

“Fair enough. I guess I can see what you mean.”

“It's just that... sometimes I'm just so happy that the same things that took their breath away can still be so fantastic. Yeah?” Six was looking at him, now, and they had this half-grin on their face that only served to make Arcade smile back.

“So you love it that there's nothing new about them, but they're still wonderful?” he asked them quietly.

“Yeah,” Six said. “It's like a metaphor, or something.”

“Oh, oh, wait, I got this one,” Arcade said, and the two of them finally stepped forward again, continuing on their journey. ED-E let out a tired beep, as if to say 'finally, you two'. “There's nothing new to be discovered but it's all beautiful anyway?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of 'the past is full of terrible and wonderful things and it's okay to know the difference,'” Six said, and Arcade couldn't help but bark a laugh.

It was easy to forget to be on guard up here, even so soon after a close call – he felt open and alive despite the urgency of their journey, and hey, Rex seemed to be doing okay, so things couldn't be terrible. It felt good to laugh, too, the sound rumbling satisfyingly in his throat. He liked laughing around Six, because Six would always look at him with a sloppy grin that just seemed so natural and carefree. It was a good look.

Arcade's laughter died, though, when they rounded the bend – the lodge cracking through the trees to come into full view in front of them, walled and manned heavily by supermutants, who were all obviously staring their party down from up the road. His shoulders dropped a little at the sight; great muscular beasts with set jaws and small eyes, some carrying miniguns the size of his head.

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled and began to cough, trying to make himself look a little less obnoxious. Six, to his horror, just laughed and continued walking.

Arcade couldn't help but wonder, sometimes, about Six – who could seem so fragile one night and completely fearless the next. _Maybe he just finds Caesar's Legion more frightening than super mutants_ , Arcade thought to himself, but it wasn't really a comparison he found he could draw. One was a massive, hulking beast that could potentially rip one to shreds, and the other was an army of individuals loyal to a man Arcade could only describe as a monster. No, Arcade didn't want to think about that much at all.

“Hi, we're just passing through,” Six called out, and one of the super mutants who approached them at a determined lumber. The mutant stopped, a couple feet in front of tiny little Six – Six, with their duffle bag and assault carbine slung happily over their shoulders, smiling a little crookedly up him.

“Don't see many humans around here, you know,” the mutant said, speaking in a much more refined tone than Arcade usually heard mutants speaking. “My name is Marcus, and I founded Jacobstown as a haven for my own kind.”

“We didn't come to start trouble,” Six assured him. “I understand your unease, if we are unwanted.” The mutant shook his head.

“You're welcome in Jacobstown, human,” Marcus said, bending down a little and putting its hands on its knees to look Six in the eye. “Just don't stare at the nightkin too much. They don't like it when people stare.”

Six, though listening, was squinting up at the big sign in the middle of the lodge grounds; the word 'Jacobstown' scrawled in bold, white graffiti. Marcus paused to let them look for a moment, before Six finally turned their attention back to the supermutant.

“Jacobstown, huh?” they said. “So who was Jacob?”

Marcus followed Six's gaze, taking a slight pause as he stared at the sign, too.

“And old... friend,” he said quietly. “I founded this town in honor of him.” Without saying anything more, he looked back to Six, cocking his head. “Is there anything else you'd like to know, human?” He said quietly.

Six paused for a moment, still looking at the sign, and Arcade had to wonder if the courier had even heard Marcus.

“Not at the moment, no,” Six said finally, then glanced back at Arcade, ED-E, and the panting Rex. “My friends... are alright to stay, too?”

The mutant looked them over – the courier, the doctor, the eyebot and the cyberdog; perhaps they were not the strangest group he'd ever seen, but Arcade could understand that they were a strange sight for anyone to behold, and waited quietly for the visual pat-down to be over with.

“Of course. Just – if you're NCR, you might want to keep it to yourself,” he said gruffly. “No one around here is fond of them.”

“Understood,” Six replied, then turned around, looking at Arcade and jerking their head towards the direction of the lodge. “Let's go find the doctor, okay?”

Arcade nodded and hurried on after them, only glancing up quickly at the super mutant, who was watching Six's duckling train with an expression of bemusement on his face.

“Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don't you?” Arcade said after they'd walked a little ways away, halfway between the wall and the lodge itself. They had to dodge a couple bighorners being herded across the field, one of the beasts flaring its nostrils at ED-E, who just beeped angrily.

“What?” Six said, raising an eyebrow and gently patting Rex's head as the cyberdog padded up beside them, sniffing his sides in worry.

“I've never seen anyone walk up to a super mutant with that kind of conviction before.”

“Jacobstown is supposed to be a safe place for anyone, as long as you're decent,” Six argued. “What would I have to be afraid of?”

“Everything,” Arcade said, lowering his voice as they walked past more super mutants, next to the walls of a couple building of to the east side of the property, all decently kept and newer-looking than the lodge itself. The town seemed to be lively and full, despite feeling less like a town than just another dwelling, like a motel full of gang members or an abandoned Vault full of fiends.

“They're not horrible, Arcade,” Six said, apparently not getting the idea of 'keeping your voice down while you're talking about people all around you.' Arcade glanced around anxiously, but none of the supermutants out in in front of the lodge seemed to be paying attention, or cared.

“I – okay, you know what, I give up,” Arcade said, with a gentle sigh. “Sometimes I just don't get you.”

Six raised an eyebrow at the doctor, but he shook them off, instead grabbing a hold of the handle on the big wooden doors and pulling it open.

The interior was dark but equally alive, and Arcade was reminded of the Wrangler, but with a distinct lack of booze or stage lights. A few supermutants standing behind the remains of the old reception area, an unfriendly welcome that stared them down the minute they walked in. Arcade felt Rex brush past his legs and seat himself near Six's feet, looking up at the courier expectantly as they let the door shut quietly behind them.

“Sorry,” Six said in a loud whisper, and Arcade wanted to strangle himself. The mutants just sniffed at them, then turned back, and Six looked at Arcade with a grin.

“See? No one cares we're here,” they said, and Arcade caught the sight of a large, aggressive looking nightkin, forgetting himself for a moment and staring back at it.

“What?” it bellowed, making Arcade, Six, and Rex jump. ED-E just lazily floated into the center of the room, seemingly unimpressed with the humans and their surprise.

“Sorry, sorry, won't look,” Arcade said quickly, turning away and doing his best to look anywhere else – at Six, in that moment, who appeared to be scanning the entrance room, a little lost.

“Hey...” Six began, but didn't look the nightkin in the eye. “D'you happen to know where we could find a doctor Henry? Small guy. Kinda human. You might know him?”

The nightkin grunted, and moved a little, but Arcade could only see it out of the corner of his eye.

“That door over there, to your right, behind the staircase,” it said finally, and Six grinned.

“Thank you very much!” they said happily, and motioned to Arcade to follow, Rex whining and padding along quickly behind them.

“'Small guy, kind of human,'” Arcade echoed as he followed Six across the dark room, dirty windows their only source of light. In was cool and warm inside, with an air of livability that surprised him. The lodge was hardly run-down, and it didn't look like it had been repaired, either – this was an old world building, strangely preserved, still serving a purpose.

“Yeah?” Six said, cocking an eyebrow at Arcade. “How else am I supposed to describe him? I've never even met him!”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The door to the room on the east end of the lodge was slightly ajar, and Six pushed it all the way open, standing in the entrance to a clean, albeit disorganized, medical facility. Arcade briefly wondered how they'd brought the gurneys up the mountain road – or if they had been there prior to the mutants and the doctor settling in this place – before the man sitting at the terminal turned to look at them, locking Six, Rex, and the eyebot in a firm glare.

“I'm going to assume this is important. You're interrupting my research,” he was completely blunt, and to the point, seemingly uninterested in Six entirely.

“I heard... you know a thing or two about cyberdogs,” Six said, straightening up and keeping a hand on Rex's head to comfort him. Arcade looked around the room, surprised at the quality of the equipment there – even the terminal the doctor was using seemed to be in good shape. Must've cut a good deal with the mutants, then.

“I do, actually,” the doctor turned around in his chair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together under his chin. He looked from Arcade to ED-E, giving no indication of recognition.

“Rex here hasn't been feeling well recently,” Six began, gently inching forward and urging the dog to come along with them. Rex whined, but padded forward, and Henry beckoned to the only other person in the room – a bored looking ghoul who came over and knelt down next to Rex, putting a hand on his back and rubbing the metal.

“Let me just take a look. Calamity, hold him still,” he said, and the ghoul nodded, still running her hand over his back.

“Where'd you hear about doc Henry?” She asked Six, who seemed a bit surprised at how easily this had all gone. Arcade didn't blame them – it felt a bit like a walk-in appointment at the cyberdog clinic, but hey, that was doc Henry, after all.

“From the Fort,” Six said, then quickly corrected themself. “The Old Mormon Fort. Lady named Julie Farkas, from the Followers, recommended him. This is the King's dog, actually, and he asked me to bring him here...”

“I see,” Henry interrupted, straightening up. “It's just neural degradation. Bio med gel can only preserve a living brain for so long. Your best bet would be to find a replacement.”

“Replacement? For the gel?”

“No. For the brain.”

Six almost immediately looked ill. Arcade glanced at them in worry, wondering if he should go over to them to help, or something.

“Are you sure there's no other way?” the courier said quickly, and doc Henry raised an eyebrow.

“Is that an issue? Canine brains are pretty common, you know. Fiends, the damn Legion, hell, there's a lady in Novac with some healthy-looking beasts right now. It shouldn't take that much effort.”

Six still seemed equally upset, and Arcade watched as the courier raised a hand to their own head, as if imagining the pain of removing someone's brain. But that was him projecting, maybe; the courier had stabbed that Legion mongrel in the throat, reckless and wild, but that could always have been the heat of the fight, the heart of the moment. Six looked ill, and Arcade couldn't take it any more – stepping forward, which caused Six to snap out of it, looking up abruptly.

“...I mean, I'm sure I can find one,” Six said, their voice low and hollow. “But won't that change... everything?”

Six was rubbing at the scar on their forehead, and Arcade felt something turn in his stomach. The words _what are you that I do not know?_ ran through his head, haunting and taunting at the same time, and he felt immediately guilty for not realizing why this would upset his friend.

“You mean the dog's neurology? Probably,” doc Henry said, shrugging. “Although the transfer may allow some memories or other aspects of its personality to be maintained, it may become a fundamentally changed animal. It's very hard to go messing around with the brain of anything without changing it completely.”

Six brought their head down from their head with a pained expression, and Henry's eyes moved immediately to the place they'd been touching. Arcade felt something raw and emotional growl deep inside of him, and he had some stupid, macho urge to step in between Six and Henry and say _no, don't look at what they've been through, don't think about that. They don't want to either._

“...But it's the only way to save him, at this point,” Henry said finally, still looking very intently at the courier's scar. Six looked back at Arcade, grimacing.

“So I guess we're going to find a brain,” Six replied, letting their shoulders drop. Arcade relaxed himself, internally embarrassed that he'd been willing to leap in front of Six for some weird, weird reason.

“Well, that's settled,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair and dismissing Calamity, his eyes never leaving Six's face. “And if you bring me the brain, I could probably do the procedure here. Unfortunately we don't have many dogs around, but like I said – Fiends or Legion, if you can stomach it. Otherwise, Novac is your best bet.”

Six rubbed at their jaw, turning back to the doctor and smiling a false smile. “Thank you, doc,” they said. “I'm sure the King will appreciate getting Rex back, especially in working condition.”

“Also... it is possible that I could keep Rex here, if that's what you'd prefer,” the doctor said, reaching down to scratch at the cyberdog's muzzle. Rex sighed softly, sitting down at Henry's feet and laying there dejectedly, looking tired and pitiful. “The mountain air might be good for him, after all. And who wants to go running across the Mojave all over again when you've got a brain bad, right?”

“...Right,” Six said quietly, but then turned to Arcade. “I guess we'll ask Marcus if we can stay here for tonight. Set out in the morning, you know?”

“Not a bad plan,” Arcade said, and the minute he spoke, doc Henry turned to him, locking the younger man in his gaze.

“By the way,” he said, addressing Six. “I don't think I got your name.”

“Oh... it's... Six,” the courier said, looking between the two doctors. “Courier. Six.”

“Well, courier Six,” Henry replied. “You sure keep some strange company, I'll say that much. An enclave eyebot and an old friend... what a strange, strange piece of history you bring to my doorstep. Go on, ask Marcus if he'll let you stay.”

-

The two - well, three, counting ED-E, but it was floating along and not making much of a hassle of itself – left doc Henry's office without saying much, the cyberdog left behind in capable hands.

A brief talk with Marcus was all but enough to secure them a room for the night, with the promise they'd be gone come morning. Marcus still seemed to be regarding the whole party with amusement, but Arcade wasn't really too worried about that, as he was replaying the events of that day over and over in the tired record his mind had become.

Evening found them leaning over the balcony of the second floor of the lodge, looking out over the yard, bighorner backs dotting the field and supermutants casting long, behemoth shadows in the spots where the light wasn't blocked out by mountains.

Six and Arcade shared a pack of smokes. It was cold out, and Six was only wearing a bloodstained t-shirt and cargo pants, as their combat armour was the only warm thing they owned and they didn't want to don that tonight. Arcade had quietly offered to share his lab coat, but Six turned him down each time, so Arcade accepted that Six was worried about something other than being cold and let it be.

They didn't speak for a very long time, only occasionally interacting when one of them handed the lighter to the other. Arcade wanted to speak, but Six didn't start any conversation, and he let them rest easy, up there, at tree height, until he finally decided he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

“...I know doctor Henry from a long time ago,” Arcade explained. “I met him when I was a young boy; my mother and I were on our way to the Mojave to find a better life for ourselves, after my father died.”

Arcade put the cigarette to his lips and took the lighter from Six, bringing the flame to the tip and inhaling quietly. Six didn't take their eyes off of Arcade until he handed them back the lighter.

“You never told me how your father died,” Six said quietly, and Arcade shrugged.

“It's not that important, really.”

“What if I just want to know because it's part of you?”

“Are you saying you think my father's dead is a big deal to my psyche?”

“I'm saying I just like hearing you talk, Arcade,” Six's voice was completely serious. Arcade laughed, choking on his smoke, his face turning a bit red as he coughed.

“Shut up, Six.”

“I'm being honest,” Six replied earnestly, leaning in a little bit to put a hand against his chest. Arcade almost stopped breathing for a moment, looking down at the serious brow and the determined mouth several inches lower than his, glaring at his breast, as if their glare could make him stop coughing.

“I mean, I'll take your word for it,” he said, but he still couldn't shake the warm that spread from the place Six was touching all the way down to his toes. Six gave him that stupid, lopsided smile of theirs, and the warmth just grew, making it really hard to care about the ash falling off the tip of his cigarette. “If I'm going to be honest... I don't know a lot about my father's death. I was young, he was gone, and I was with my mom for most of my life.”

Six leaned back against the railing, nodding to themselves as they brought their cigarette to their lips.

“I lived with my mom most of my life, too,” they said quietly. “My mom and my grandmother. We lived in a community in Montana. My mom was a repair-woman – she taught me how to shoot. My grandmother was a homemade scholar. She taught me how to read, English and Chinese, as well as write and sing,” Six looked a little embarrassed at that. “I'm not very good, though, so don't ask me to.”

Arcade took the cigarette from his lips and mushed it against the banister, listening quietly.

“Your grandmother read Chinese? Could she speak it, too?”

“Course she could. She was Chinese,” Six replied. “I know, I don't look Chinese at all.”

“Appearance is not always an accurate representation of heritage,” Arcade pointed out. “Were you close to your mother and grandmother?”

“Not... particularly. I left home when I was 16 just because it was safer like that. My grandmother had passed away the year before, and my mother made it clear I was getting too old to live with her. So I left.”

“That's... harsh,” Arcade said in a soft voice. “I was always close with my mother.”

Six just shrugged. “It doesn't matter all that much to me. I joined on with a group of traders for a while, became a courier for quite a few years before moving down to join in with the Mojave express. Had one job in the desert before this happened,” Six pushed back their greasy hair from their forehead, pointing out the scar and repeating the story Arcade had pieced together already. “I got shot and had to chase a guy all the way to Vegas just to ask 'hey, why'.”

“That's some determination.”

“Yeah, well, it'll be worth something when I actually finally track down the guy. Right now Vegas has a lot of baggage I don't really want to deal with.”

“Am I a part of that baggage?” Arcade asked, mimicking Six and leaning his elbows on the banister. Six just laughed.

“Hardly. You're like a nice, stiff drink I can nurse my wounds over at the end of a long day,” now it was Arcade's turn to laugh.

“You sound like an old world poet, now,” he told Six. Six just grinned.

“I don't know if that's a compliment, but thank you,” they replied. “So how did a good, stiff drink like yourself wind up in the Mojave?”

“That's less poetic, Six.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I'm serious.”

“I told you I came here with my mother,” Arcade shrugged. “And some close family. We just wanted to start a life here, you know? Just a boring Jewish family trying to run away from my dad's ghost.”

“Literally, or figuratively?”

“Figuratively, you ass. I mean – I think my mother just wanted me to be safer than I was back home. It really wasn't that exciting, you know,” he shrugged. “I didn't understand back then the NCR wanted us because my family was from the Enclave. I just knew we had to move, and my mother never looked happy, except for when we were with people like Dr. Henry.”

Six seemed to be taking all of this relatively well, and Arcade could feel that eternal knot he carried inside of his chest begin to relax. It felt good to be open, to be less boring and more bare, naked and wounded and letting Six see and understand the riverbeds of his history, and how they marked the map of his life like scars. He knew there was a lot he wasn't saying, but there was a lot Six wasn't telling him, either, and it was a start. _A start_ , he thought, bringing his next cigarette to his mouth and lighting it again, watching the smoke curl up into the darkness, his hand brushing Six's as he handed them back the lighter. _A start is good enough for me. This journey has been nothing but a beginning._

They chose to retire for the night after that, leaving their ashes to cool on the railing as they went back inside, making their way quietly to the small room they'd been told to share. Six stripped in front of Arcade with comfortable ease, and Arcade chose the mattress under the window, watching Six's back in the moonlight.

ED-E appeared while Six was folding their armour onto a chair, buzzing into a corner of the tight room and settling there, hovering and booping quietly. Six climbed under a stained sheet, and turned to look at Arcade, their head propped up on their arm.

“What?” the doctor asked quietly, and Six made a shrugging motion.

“Nothing. I'm just looking at you.”

“For any particular reason, or...?”

“No,” Six said, shifting their body so they could rest their chin on their arms, shuffling closer to Arcade, on the edge of their mattress – almost falling onto his.

(Up this close, Arcade could now see that Six did indeed have gray eyes; ringed around the pupil with a touch of green. As a doctor, Arcade knew he shouldn’t be so fascinated by something like proteins and melanin in the iris, but Six made him understand why old world people wrote novels about these things. His eyes were sharp and challenging, just in the way they stared at you, but Arcade would let the courier stab him a million times with that gaze if he wanted. Arcade may not be able to look Six in the eye for too long, but god, every time he did, it was worth it.)

That was what he thought about, before he drifted to sleep without even realizing; god, what a sappy, masochistic bastard he was being. What upset him more, though, was the fact that 'sappy and masochistic' seemed to be a pretty good summary of how he felt towards Six, some, if not most of the time.

\--

Arcade woke up and forgot where he was – the soft stream of sunlight through the dirty window of the lodge making everything seem warm and green and rich, Six's soft breath the only rhythm in the room, keeping pace with his own. Arcade turned over, his cheek pressed against the flat pillow, watching Six curled up in a ball next to him – the slight rise and fall of their body making him tingle all over, so warm and welcome since they were alive.

“Hey, Six,” Arcade said softly, reaching out and gently touching their shoulder, giving them a bit of a prod. Six almost immediately uncurled themself, lifting their head a little and looking up with bleary eyes.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask you what time it was,” Arcade said softly. Six looked at him, then slowly raised their arm in front of their face, squinting at their pip-boy.

“It's almost eleven AM,” Six replied. “I guess we should get up.”

“Oh, unfortunate,”Arcade sighed, but sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Did you see where I put my glasses?”

The two of them slowly stumbled around the room, dressing and gathering their things together while ED-E floated lazily in the corner, having the distinct advantage of being a robot without clothes or personal belongings.

“My plan is to set out for Novac first thing,” Six said, their voice taking on a tired, but confident tone. “We should be able to make it there in a day or two. It might be best to go around north of Vegas, the way we came, but...”

“But that'll take longer.”

“Yeah.”

“But less fiends.”

“Yeah.”

“So the choice is a longer trek or a shorter trek which may or may not be longer depending on whether or not we can avoid gunfire.”

“Pretty much.”

Arcade sighed, but did the zipper up on his backpack with finality. “I guess I vote the longer way, providing we don't have any more issues with our friends over at camp Caesar.”

Six's face flashed something that Arcade didn't like, and the doctor immediately realized his mistake. _Fuck's sake, whose brilliant idea it was to bring up the Legion again? Oh, yours. Dumbass._

“I mean,” Arcade said, quickly correcting himself. “I'd like to go the long way round to spend more time with my favourite courier.”

Six's laugh was so clear and bright it melted Arcade's worries immediately.

“Your _favourite courier_? Really?” Six said, completely bemused. Arcade just slapped on a grin and shrugged, glad his recovery had at least been funny.

“What?”

“You're a fucking suck, you know that, Arcade?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's get going, you walking mailbox.”

They left the lodge some half hour later, struggling to open an old can of beans for breakfast outside, when they were approached by Marcus himself, who seemed openly distraught. _Uh oh_ , Arcade thought, looking to Six.

“We have an issue,” Marcus said, his voice low and urgent.

Arcade and Six looked at each other, Arcade giving Six a oh-god-what-now sort of look. Six turned back to Marcus, though, putting on a polite face.

“Is it anything we can help with?”

“Possibly. There's some mercs down the road that have been causing trouble. Shooting at bighorners, throwing things at the windows, antagonizing the mutants... I was thinking that maybe they'd listen to you, since you're human, you know,” Marcus looked exhausted, reluctantly hopeful, even. Arcade glanced at Six, who was meeting Marcus' gaze head on.

“Do you know where they're from?” Six said, and looked out towards the road. Near the trees, perched on some rocks in the hillside, Arcade could make out three or four men, holding weapons, staring down the super mutants at Jacobstown's gate.

“Pretty sure they're NCR,” Marcus grunted. “Or just someone who wants us dead and gone. Either way, they're human, you're human...” his gaze turned to ED-E. “Or most of you are.”

“Well, even if we aren't, I think we got the guns to back us up,” Six pointed out, and Arcade just gave them a look of surprise. That didn't seem like the best course of action, considering the situation.

“I'm not asking you to kill them,” he said, and Arcade breathed a sigh of relief. _Oh, thank god, I really didn't want to go in guns blazing against some NCR mercs today. “_ In fact, I'd appreciate it if we avoided bloodshed altogether. “

Arcade exhaled, and Six paused for consideration, their eyes glancing down the road towards the crouched figures.

“I'll see what I can do,” they said definitively, and motioned their head to ED-E and Arcade to come with them.

“I wasn't exactly eager to go up against someone hired by the NCR a day after we dealt with a bunch of Legion goons, you know,” Arcade told the courier, his hand resting on his plasma defender. “So I'm glad we're going for a diplomatic route. Sometimes I don't understand you, you know that?”

“I wasn't actually going to shoot anyone up, Arcade,” Six replied with a sigh. “I was just saying, you know – me, you, the eyebot, we could probably make a big show of it and send them packing, right?”

“Six... that sounds like a terribly good way to get shot.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Six...”

“Seriously. Been shot, bit, beaten, buried in a grave, stung by cazadors, lazer'd by robots.”

“Yes, well, even if you're invincible, I'm not. So let's avoid having their guns pointed at our faces, okay?”

Six let out a laugh, reaching over to give Arcade a friendly shove. “Okay, fair enough. I'm pretty fond of your face, anyway.”

It took Arcade a moment to register what Six had said, and by the time he had time to figure out what retort he should be spluttering back, Six had jogged on ahead, ED-E booping along behind them.

“This fucking courier,” Arcade whispered under his breath, secretly enjoying the warmth spreading across his face as he ran to catch up.

The mercs eyed them coldly as Six approached, their weapons holstered as a sign that they had come here to talk, not to fight.

“Our business is with the muties, buddy,” a man with a finely trimmed beard and dark hair said. Six shrugged.

“I'm just here to deliver a message,” they said, shrugging. “How about this: Go away. Or you'll have to deal with me,” and then Six's voice dropped, and in one smooth, swift motion, they pulled their assault carbine off their shoulder, holding it firmly but not aiming. “And you'll wish you were fighting super mutants instead.”

_I really, really don't understand this fucking courier,_ Arcade thought to himself miserably, staring at his companion in shock and horror as the mercs looked to their leader, and back to Six, raising their weapons ever so slightly.

“Really?” Trim beard said, his jaw tense as he started at the little, dyed-blond mailman standing in front of him. _Oh, god, please don't shoot us, please don't shoot us,_ Arcade prayed quietly.

“Really,” Six said, with quiet affirmation. “Look, I dunno who's paying you, and I don't care. That's the last thing I care about right now. If you think your payment is worth taking on myself and my companions – one of whom, I might point out to you, is a fucking eyebot that I've seen kill nightcrawlers like flies – then go right ahead, keep on fucking with these people. I. Dare. You.”

Arcade had his hand on his plasma defender, and with the way the mercs were looking at him, he was sure he must've pulled off looking either super tough and ready to shoot or looked completely ridiculous and scared shitless. _Please think I look tough and badass and ready to kick some serious butt if anyone tries to hurt us_ , he prayed, staring them back down with a blank look.

“...You know, I've always known when to fight, and when to back down,” the merc leader said, looking between ED-E and Arcade and then finally resting on Six. “And I think this time, we're backing down.   
Come on, boys, let's go.”

The mercs turned away, but the men kept looking back, staring at the courier and the eyebot as they followed their leader off down the road. Arcade remained staring at Six, who seemed to have relaxed and slung their gun over their shoulder.

“I can't believe that worked,” Arcade said, half in awe at Six's ability to talk down a bunch of NCR mercs, and half in awe at how reckless the courier was.

“Neither can I,” Six said, letting out a breath they were clearly holding, and turning back towards the lodge. “Let's go tell Marcus he's in the clear and I can clean the shit out from the inside of my armour.”

“Six!”

“Yes, Arcade?”

“That's a terrible mental image and in no way attractive.”

“Well, good for you I didn't actually shit myself, then,” Six said loudly as they approached the outer walls of the lodge. “I was so stressed I probably just sucked any fecal matter back up for good.”

Arcade realized that Marcus, who'd been watching their interactions with the mercs from afar, was now staring at them now that they were within hearing distance. Arcade almost felt embarrassed. Almost.

“You won't be having any trouble with the mercs from now on,” Six told the mutant, still smiling way too playfully.

“That's... reassuring,” Marcus replied, still looking between Arcade and Six and seeming to have trouble deciding if the two of them were all right. “Thank you for dealing with that peacefully. I like to think we can avoid the problem of having a reputation as killers, up here.”

“It's no problem, really,” Six said, settling down a little and reaching over to put a hand on Arcade's arm. “We're going to head out, for real now, but we'll be back for Henry and the dog in a few day's time.”

“We look forward to your return, human,” Marcus said, dipping his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for your help here, and your respect.”

Six lifted their chin a little, then nodded at the mutant, turning away and moving back down the road, Arcade following in step and ED-E at their heels. Arcade cast one more look back at the lodge, and noticed that Marcus was giving them a bemused look; Six still had his hand on Arcade's arm, and Arcade hadn't even noticed.

Marcus' words from earlier ran over in his head – _I founded Jacobstown in honor of an old friend_ – yeah, something like that. Arcade found himself smiling a little bitterly, looking back down the road and feeling Six's hand heavy on him now.

_Think I one-upped you there, Marcus. I'm running across the Mojave on a whim for this 'friend'._ Arcade, feeling juvenile and restless and eager despite the stress of the past couple days, broke into a jog, with Six laughing and jogging along beside him – not questioning, just moving forward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. We've come a long way, and I'll have a lot more to say once I've finished this lil ol' fic. See you after chapter 10.


	10. nothing new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I have the Followers symbol tattooed on my forearm. Have I mentioned this before?

Now that he'd seen it happen twice, Arcade had come to realize that there was a strange life that came into Six when they set off down a road.

Six tugged at an invisible lead that kept them firmly attached to Arcade and ED-E – forcing their companions to follow along at their eager pace, whether they wanted to or not. Six was always running ahead, then stopping and turning back to look before carrying on without a word. Six's energy was all movement, all forward movement, though sometimes they'd run down through the trees off the side of the road and Arcade found himself wondering if he'd ever see them again.

They were always searching, always moving, and he didn't have words to describe this sickness that seemed to take hold of them when they walked. It was desperate, yes, but either Six hid it well or they found some real joy in their journey because still, they walked with purpose.

“I want to make it back down the road by nightfall,” Six told Arcade, slowing their stride a little so they could fall into step beside him, ED-E trailing along ever loyal.

“We'll set up camp at the base of the mountain – maybe find a nice little rock to sit on, y'know?”

“I'm done with rocks, you know,” Arcade said, but he was only teasing. “Not all of us have spines of steel. Have some sympathy.”

“Oh, shut up. You just got to sleep on a damn mattress up on the lodge. You've been pampered enough.”

Arcade rolled his eyes at the courier, but he was still grinning all the while.

“You know, the Followers safehouse isn't far from where the road comes out of the mountains,” he said after a moment. One stride for him was one-and-a-bit for Six, and there was something charming about it.

“The what now?”

“Our safehouse. We keep extra supplies and an outpost there. Sometimes Doctor Luria will visit every couple of days and restock it.”

“Oh,” Six said, cocking their head a little. “Is it used heavily?”

“Well, it's hardly the Wrangler,” Arcade replied. “But it sees some people come and go. I've never heard of there being more than two or three people hanging out there at one time.”

“Hm,” Six said, nodding quietly. “Convenient. And did you say there'd be food?”

“I'm not sure how much, but yes, usually. And a couple Nuka-Cola's. Sarsaparillas.”

“Sounds absolutely brilliant,” Six said, and then picked up the pace without warning – jogging on ahead, leaving Arcade behind once more.

\--

Strangely enough, walking down a mountain is a hell of a lot easier than walking up it. Arcade marveled at this little wonder of the world as they stepped into sight of the Mojave proper sometime before sunset that same day.

The Followers safehouse was off the main road; they had to head south once they got out of the mountains and climb a bit of a slope to find it. It was sunken happily into the rock, the familier cross-in-a-circle symbol for the Followers hung in iron on the outside wall.

“It's really... quite boring,” Arcade said, but Six just gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs.

“That's what you always say about yourself,” they said, shaking their head and approaching the walls. They looked up at the Followers symbol on the wall, old and rusted and striking against the dull white of the building. Arcade was digging around for his keys, pulling caps and stimpacks out of his backpack before he finally found his keyring and started to jingle it into the door.

“Will you go back to the Followers after this?”

Arcade turned from the door, fingers resting gently on the handle. Six was still standing in front of the Followers symbol, knees locked and heels digging into the dirt slope, arms crossed and staring up a Arcade as if they were afraid of something.

“I'm going to come with you to Novac, you know. I'm interested in seeing how this all plays out,” he said.”

“I mean after that,” Six said softly, digging their fingers into their sides and looking away.

“Probably, if Julie hasn't decided they're better off without me wasting space,” Arcade replied. “I'm sure everyone will be glad to have you back, though. Freeside didn't know what it needed until you came along.”

Six looked almost painfully uncomfortable at his words, so Arcade took his hand off the door and turned around to fully face the courier.

“....You are coming back to Vegas, aren't you?”

He didn't like the way Six was looking at him, face all full uncertainties and anxiety. They weren't moving, but they seemed to almost be drawing back – back down the slope and into the wastes, and Arcade was tempted to reach out and grab them so they couldn't go.

_How has it come to this?_ He wondered to himself, watching as Six looked away and the light of the setting sun caught their cheeks and they jaw, bathing them and the Mojave in the same orange glow.  _What am I going to do now? What the hell is this courier to me?_ He knew, but he didn't want to think it, or say it, because there were so many things about them they still didn't understand and this felt like an ending.

“I will... have to go back, eventually,” Six said, their words slow and awkward. “But I think... if there's a road I gotta walk, it isn't taking me to Vegas again anytime soon. I have things to do, Arcade, and I guess I've got other lights to follow.”

“Don't you get all poetic on me,” Arcade said, feeling something catch in his throat. “Besides, we haven't even got to Novac yet. Maybe something will change between now and then. Either way, you said you'd come back sometime, even if not right away... right?”

He was running through thoughts out loud, half trying to steady himself and half trying to coax Six, and he was flashing through all he knew about Six up until that point – from their time in Freeside, to the attack, to the moments they'd shared in Jacobstown – and trying desperately to quell the part of himself that wanted to beg.

“Arcade,” Six said, and turned their gaze back to him, even though Arcade couldn't meet their eyes. “I don't know how to describe what I need to do without getting all bullshit poetic on you. I have to walk.”

Arcade hated that he both understood and couldn't for the life of him comprehend Six all at once. He balled his fists in frustration, wishing he could whirl around and strike the door, but he didn't want to scare Six – he didn't want to lose it.

“But I don't want to go alone,” Six said finally, and Arcade looked up when he heard a crack in their voice. To his shock and horror, Six was tearing up, wrapping their arms around themselves and bowing their head. Arcade moved forward and touched his hands to their arms, and they looked up at him in desperation.

“There's so much out there, Arcade, the world is so big and I don't think I've come to understand it any better. I feel like there's something I have to do but I'm trying to do something alone. I don't want to go on without my friends – you or ED-E or even Rex but... especially you. Especially you.”

Especially you. There was something in the way Six said it that just made all of Arcade seize up, made him feel like he wasn't breathing right. He knew what this was, what he wanted; he knew that he wanted nothing more than to impale him on Six's desperate, searching, earnest gaze. He knew that Six was standing in front of him and they were still way too far, just out of reach and getting fainter in the distance. He knew he had to turn and run to catch up and he was _going_ to catch up because, fuck it, he spends his whole life researching remedies in the back of the Old Mormon Fort when he could reach out and grab the strange new life standing in front of him.

Maybe it was some type of remedy, some type of medicine. Maybe it was poison. He could drown in those eyes.

“Do you consider me a friend, then?” He asked, his voice soft and quiet and there was a breeze up here, cool on his skin.

“Arcade,” Six said, and their voice was half a laugh, half a choke. “I don't think there's words for how I feel about you. You're my best friend. And I love you.”

Love. Arcade knew what that meant, he knew the word in English and Latin and Spanish and French, but there was something different about it when it was coming off Six's tongue, like it was a whole new language all together. He wanted to understand it, wanted desperately to be able to explain it, but it was new and naked and bare – like a child, like a newborn child that was still in need of care, still needed him. Love.

“I think...” Arcade began, but he didn't have time to think, not here. “No. I love you too. Six, I love you too.”

Arcade's hands found their way to Six's hips, steadying himself on them. Just down the slope was the highway to Vegas, the bright glow of the city seemingly coming alive as all else around them was turning to darkness. The sky was growing darker, and stars were making their claim on the night, but their bodies and faces were still washed in the light of the dying sun that struggled to keep its claim on the Mojave. They were alone, now, with the Mojave laid out at their feet, and if they took off running down the hill they could take it on... but Arcade wasn't thinking about war or wastelands, and his hands wrapped so nicely around Six's waist, and the courier just had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. He didn't want to think about the Mojave. There was nothing under the sun he wanted to discover except for the courier in front of him.

Six smiled, and Arcade smiled back. It was like looking at Six through new eyes, now that it was all out in the open. Of course they were friends, of course they loved each other, but Arcade understood now that there was something beautifully mutual about how they felt and he just couldn't fucking wait to follow his courier wherever they decided they needed to go.

“You're looking at me weird,” Six said, and their face was broken into a nervous laugh that Arcade could only echo.

“I was wondering if I could kiss you, actually,” Arcade said. _Because I want to. Yeah, I think I want to._

“Is it that kind of love?” Six asked him softly.

“Romantic?”

“No. The kind where you want to kiss me.”

“Is there a difference?”

“I dunno. I feel like there's something different about you. I trust you."

Arcade's heart swelled, and Six's gaze turned south, mountains and roads blending together on the horizon.

“I think I want to kiss you too,” they said finally, and Arcade brought a hand to their cheek. He leaned in, and he kissed the courier, and the courier kissed him back. _In the light of the setting sun, overlooking the wasteland – nah, cut the bullshit. I'm just happy to be with them_. Arcade thought, and with his lips pressed to Six's mouth, he smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's over.  
> I dunno - I've always had trouble finishing large projects I set out to complete; long fics or personal writing adventures that came and died and never saw the light of day. Part of this was laziness, part of this was being young, and part of this was I lost several years to mental illness during high school and I just... didn't write like I should have.  
> This is probably the first big fic I've ever published online and one of my first big projects ever.  
> And it means a lot to me, you know? I mean, hell, it's imperfect, probably needed more editing, more time to sit. I'd rewrite this a million times - maybe give it more reason, figure out what I wanted to say, tie themes together properly. Edit chapter 1 to work more with chapter 10. I'd develop people more and I'd fix the mistakes I made a year ago.  
> But it's done, I did it. I challenged myself to see this silly little fic through to the bitter end and I did it, so I'm... happy. This probably won't be the only story I write involving these two; I have offshoots and one-shots already planned, maybe not in the near future but sometime. I'd like to revisit them, even after I came here to complete my own personal challenge. Finishing this makes me believe in myself for finishing so much else.
> 
>  
> 
> This is way too long and personal for an author's note, but it's important. I wanted to write a story about two people falling in love, and I did.


End file.
